Prince Charming
by CE Winters
Summary: Kurt is a prince in Karofsky's court, living with a secret passion that could ruin him.  Blaine is a knight of the court; his sword is sworn to protect the monarchs, but his heart is sworn to another. This is their story.
1. Chapter 1 :: Prologue

_A/N: Hey everyone! This is a Klaine fic that takes place in a time period that can be compared to the European Early Middle Ages - the Dark Ages. Think around the time King Arthur was reputed to have lived ;)_

_This story was completely inspired by a picture and prompt that muchacha10 posted on her Tumblr page, which will fit into this story later on, I highly suggest you take a look her work because it is amazing! That said, the little outline she gave there took root and grew in my head, expanding so much that I had to begin writing right away._

_To alleviate some confusion that might come around because of the format I am setting this story in, I'll explain things a little. This is a first-person prologue written in the present. After this, the chapters will be in the third-person past tense as Kurt reflects on his story leading up to this point. Eventually, the past will catch up the present and we'll go from there :)_

_Now, as a disclaimer, there are some historical things that won't completely line up with fact. As a history double major, I can feel the pain some of you might feel at that, and I'll say sorry in advance. As a trade-off for that, I'll try to include little historical fun facts every now and then (the first one is at the end of this chapter!) Feel free to point out when you think I'm being contrary to history, but in many cases, I already know. For example, I do know that there were no historic executions for male homosexuality - sodomy as it was called back then, and will be called throughout this fic - until the 1200s, but I tweaked that for my purposes here; the 1200s wasn't far enough in the past, I really wanted this to occur in the Early Middle Ages. On a related note, I'm also **really** sorry if Kurt's situation is somehow offensive to readers. All I can say in response to that is that this really happened to people, and Kurt is wholly and totally the protagonist, as you'll see later, and I hope it serves as a serious, humbling, realistic frame for what is essentially a love story._

_As a last note, the reading of the sentence is almost entirely pulled from _Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl_, and I can only claim credit for the slight alterations in the semantics :)_

_I hope you all enjoy the prologue! :)_

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><p><em>Autumn, 635 C.E.; Lima, Algania<em>

What choices do people make to get to where they are today? Can we help the path that our lives go down? Can we choose our destiny? Or are we all subjects of fate, mere feathers carried around by the winds of life?

In this moment, even I do not know which answer I would rather be a fallacy. Several years ago, I certainly would have been a supporter of the latter being false. In fact, in every instance before my conviction I would have felt as such. But the thought that my own actions could have led me to not only my fate but also that of an innocent man weighs heavily on my mind. I would much rather believe that my strings have been pulled by another force all of these years, one greater than me, one that I never had any hope of resisting. However, in a puppet show, if a string breaks or the puppet doesn't move correctly, the blame rests solely on the puppeteer. Now, I am the only one being blamed.

Rather, I and the man by my side, the man that has taken the blame for a crime that was never his. That is what they call it: a crime. I had known that, but it hadn't changed anything, I hadn't done anything differently. Once again, it would be easier to say that I wouldn't have been _able_ to do anything differently, that I am finally facing my inescapable fate.

But it had felt like a choice. Even now, I can still feel all the anticipation of facing the forbidden and knowing that every action you made was an unprecedented evil, or so they claimed. I can recall the unsure feeling I had felt at the beginning, the sense that I was about to plunge headfirst into something too big for me to handle. It had _felt_like a choice.

My eyes are closed, but I can hear the people gathered around. I can't see or feel the man at my side but I know he is there. They brought us here with our hands tied together, leading us on ropes like animals on a leash. Our eyes had been uncovered and we had been able to see the set-up they had erected for the sole purpose of our destruction.

They'd made a raised wooden stage, with two ten foot tall vertical posts embedded in it. As they led me up the steps and threw me back against one of the poles, I had seen the tall piles of hay to the side of the stage. And a stage it was, for people were crowding all around, eager to see the event they had come for.

They had yanked my hands behind my back, around the wooden pole, and lashed them together tightly, the leather strips biting into my skin. I would only have to bear the pain for a while longer; I had been standing against the stake for ten minutes already. Things couldn't carry on like this for much longer, not with the people waiting for their spectacle.

This thought in mind, this realization that I might only be on this earth for a matter of minutes, I quickly open my eyes again and look around. It is late autumn, and the sun is shining down warmly on the city of Lima. I train my face to the sky to see that it is crystalline blue, and birds are flying around, far from leaving for the winter. Every now and then a breeze drifts by, ruffling my clothes against my skin. Once, these clothes had been the envy of the nation, the best that money could buy and a beacon that shone a light that the rest of the country would undoubtedly follow. My time locked in the dungeons saw that they were now a mockery of their own former glory.

I inhale deeply and am immediately assaulted with a myriad of scents: recently cut flowers from a nearby window, freshly baked bread from a bakery several streets over, and that distinctive, city scent that was an ever-present undertone resulting from too many people living too close together. Usually I didn't notice it, but I could hardly help but notice it now.

I am startled from my quick appreciation for the world around me by a sudden weight hitting my foot. My eyes fly open and I see a large man, a palace grunt that I cannot name, smiling evilly as he piles swatches of hay around my feet.

Sudden alarm rises in my throat – for this means my fate is almost inescapable – I turn my head to look at the man by my side, the guiltless one that had sacrificed his life for the safety of another. More grunts are piling hay at his feet, in an identical set-up. His head is facing downward initially, but he soon turns it to me as if he can feel my gaze.

He doesn't look angry, if anything, he looks like he is at peace with what is happening. His long, blonde bangs fall into his eyes as he leans his head sideways slightly, as if asking why I look so afraid. Wordlessly, his full lips press together in some semblance of a smile. The sight almost brings tears to my eyes. How can this be happening? How can he sit there and smile when he has done nothing to warrant this brutality? When someone else…

I turn away from my present companion in misery as my thoughts turn to the one who will always be in my heart. I don't know where he is. I haven't known his whereabouts for the several months I have been imprisoned, and no one would dare tell me. For all I know now, he could be dead. The thought sends a shiver of horror up my spine, but if that is the case, at least we will be together soon.

I hesitate to say that he has abandoned me. That is what an evil part of my mind tells me, but my heart and logic both do not believe it for a second. He would never do that. I believe with all of my being that there is a reason he is not here – a reason that he is not here to _save_ me.

I look out to the crowd again, and amongst the eager faces - though there were also those who appeared ill at ease - I see two that are drawn up in the utmost concern and despair, a sight that breaks my heart even more than the prospect of my imminent fate. Carole and Finn stand at the front of the crowd. Her face is streaked with tears, her eyes are red-rimmed, and she kneads at a handkerchief. He is flanked by two burly men, taller even than he is, which is saying quite a lot. They are more palace grunts – I'm not sure where they all come from, only that they somehow multiply like rabbits to be both inexhaustible and everywhere at once – and their sole purpose is to restrain my step-brother.

I can see in his face that he would like nothing more than to knock both men out and cut my ties on the spot, but their strong grips on both of his arms prevent that. He looks up at me and I can see the hopelessness in his eyes. I try to smile at him, drawing inspiration from my companion's strained smile only moments before, but I do not pull it off as well as he did. _There isn't anything you can do_, I want to tell him. _There never was._

My father is not in the crowd, which I am thankful for though I am certain it is of no choice of his own. Had he been present, all the guards in the world couldn't stop his attempts to see to my safety. There is no doubt in my mind that he would have been killed for his valiant efforts.

I continue to scan the crowd, looking for the one face that is forever imprinted on the inside of my eyelids. I do not see him, no matter how far into the crowd my eyes stretch. _Where is he?_ I would give anything to be able to see him one last time before I die.

"Kurt Hummel," a voice startles me from my futile search. I look downward to see two richly dressed people at the base of the stage, a man and a woman. The man was the one who had spoken. My face contorts and for the first time, I begin to pull at my bonds. This is all happening too soon. "And Samuel Evans."

"Be it known that you have been charged, tried, and convicted for your willful commission of crimes against humanity, said crimes being recurring and inhuman in nature, the most egregious of these being habitual sodomy with another of the male gender." He pauses and the crowd begins to murmur. I turn my head to exchange a glance with Sam and he nods again as if to say that he will stand by me through this, as he has through so much else. I am once again overwhelmed by the fact that the blame for his imminent death can be put entirely on my shoulders.

"For these crimes," the richly dressed man continues on. "You have been sentenced to be, on this day, burned at the stake until dead. Have you any last words?"

Sam says nothing but I lean forward, toward the man who had spoken, my bonded hands keeping the motion from extending too far. "David," I say, pain I did not wish to convey evident in my voice. "Cousin. You don't have to do this."

The man's face clouds over instantly and any emotion that might have been there for a split second was gone the next. He takes a step forward, away from the woman at his side and closer to me. His eyes narrow. "You are no cousin of mine. You owe me respect fit for my position, even in your sorry, lawless state," he declares, voice gaining in volume as his words continue on. "I am your king, and you will address me as such. If there are no last words to be had, your fate is now at hand. May God have mercy on your soul." He steps back again, and my last hope dies at his retreat.

I see a flame being lit to my right. I suddenly want to reach out and grab Sam's hand, though our bonds prevent it. All I want is one last comfort, the simple comfort of touch before I die. My hands clench and unclench, and sweat forms on my brow though the torch has yet to be tossed.

My eyes travel to the man holding the flame. He walks around the stage until he stands directly between me and Sam. He takes time to look both of us in the eye. As he raises the hand holding the torch, preparing to throw it on the hay that would ignite and take our lives, I close my eyes one last time.

What choices do people make to get to where they are today? Can we help the path that our lives go down? Can we choose our destiny? Or are we all subjects of fate, mere feathers carried around by the winds of life? Where did my story start? What was the first building block that laid the foundation for the tower that was now about to topple? It must have been more than twenty years ago.

People say that before death, your life flashes before your eyes. I had always assumed that it was involuntary, but now I realize that it is just the contrary. It flashes before your eyes because you need to take one last look at your past to know that your entire life wasn't as miserable as it is now, in the moment of death. Before I can even feel the warmth of the flames, I think back to the very beginning. The moment my story started was the moment I first met _him_. When we first met more than twenty years ago, I had not known that Blaine Anderson, my reason to live, would also be the reason I was sentenced to death.

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><p><span>Fun fact:<span> Algania isn't actually a fictional land! That was almost the name of the United States of America! Way back when, when America was still a baby-nation, a group of prominent men of the time met together to seriously discuss changing the nation's name, and it can all be attributed to literature! The United States had been criticized and denied as a truly intellectual nation by Europe, England specifically, for not having any prominent poets or authors among its citizens. Upon the emergence of such authors as Washington Irving and other early American greats, a new mentality emerged among the States, one that praised their youth and freshness and celebrated "America's Pastoral Glory". A group of men, intent on providing the nation with a strong national identity, met with the opinion that "The United States of America" was an ungainly name for an elegant country to wield and they needed to think of a new one. Algania was the front-runner in the competition, battling with the old name which eventually won out due to its familiarity.

I couldn't help but adopt the silver medalist for the purposes of this fic.

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><p><em>AN: I hope that you enjoyed this, and that something in this short prologue caught your interest and will have you returning upon the next installation!_

_Thanks! :)_


	2. Chapter 2 :: The First Meeting

_A/N: Hello again! Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter, I'm pleased you liked it! This chapter will be quite different. You'll see that I tried to align the style of narration with Kurt's age, so it will grow as he does._

_Enjoy! :)_

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><p><em>Late Spring, 615 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

Coughs wracked the frame of a small woman surrounded by many pillows and cushions in her large bed. Her young, five year old son stood at her bedside, one person there of many, eyes saucer-wide and refusing to blink. If he blinked, the boy thought, she might be gone when he opened his eyes again. She was so thin and frail, that was the only possibility in his mind.

He wanted to yell at the people that crowded around her bedside. He wanted to tell them that the funny lantern they swung, which didn't emit light but instead leaked funny-smelling smoke, and the chants they performed over her body were not actually helping her. He wanted to shoo them all away and open up a window so she could hear the songbirds. His mother always loved singing along to the tune of the songbirds; it had been her who taught him to sing in the first place, a practice the little boy drew much joy from.

As he thought of everything that was going wrong in the over-crowded room, the boy's bottom lip began to waver and tears started to form at the corners of his eyes. The sharp eyes of the woman closest to his mother's side observed this, and she quickly pulled the boy away from the bedside.

"Kurt," she said in a soothing voice, resting the backs of her fingers against his pale cheek, bejeweled rings pressing coldly against his skin. "Why don't you say goodbye to your mother and leave this stuffy room?"

"Goodbye?" Kurt repeated waveringly, eyes growing impossibly wider.

"I mean for now," the woman correct herself swiftly. "Just while there are so many people around. You can talk to her alone later."

"Can't you make them leave, Aunt Vivienne?" Kurt whined. From his mother's bedside, a man with a long mustache cleared his throat disapprovingly. Kurt saw his aunt's eyes flicker in the man's direction harshly but she looked back at her nephew soon after. Kurt knew what he had done wrong. He wasn't supposed to call his aunt that when there were a lot of people around, that's what his mother and father always said; and he _definitely _wasn't supposed to whine. Kurt didn't think it was fair though, since David whined all the time and his father always got to call his aunt 'sister'.

"Can't you make them leave, _Your Majesty_?" Kurt corrected grumpily, crossing his arms. He stuck his tongue out at the stuffy man once he turned his back, and even though it was right in front of his aunt's face, she merely smiled and squeezed his hand softly.

"I'm afraid that it's protocol, dear," she told him quietly, though Kurt could barely hear her over the din the others were making.

"But Aunty – _Your Majesty_ – that isn't _fair._ I thought the queen could do whatever she wanted!"

Vivienne ducked her head and chuckled briefly. When she turned her face back to her nephew, she was still smiling. That was one of the things Kurt liked best about his aunt: she was always smiling, even in a room full of evil old men that wouldn't leave his poor mother alone. "I'm afraid not, darling. Davey is in the playroom with Schoolmaster Schuester, practicing his letters. Why don't you go in and join them?"

Kurt pulled a frowning face and swayed moodily. "I don't want to. Dave always thinks he can spell better than me even when Schoolmaster Schuester says _I'm_ the one who got it right."

"Don't be silly, Kurt," Queen Vivienne said, setting a hand on his back and guiding him through the crowd to his mother. "You're both very smart. David will be lucky that he has you when he becomes king. Now why don't you say goodbye." She stopped a few feet away from her sister-in-law and let Kurt proceed to his mother alone.

He walked to her side and leaned down to kiss her cheek, small hands reaching out to grab one of her graceful ones. "I'm going to go practice my letters, mother," he told the ill woman, stroking her hand.

"That's fine, darling," she said, voice quiet and weak. She panted as if she'd just ran a long distance, but Kurt knew that she had been in bed for months now. "You make your father and I proud with how fast you're learning. You shouldn't be in this room in the first place; go along, now."

Kurt felt a pat on his shoulder and he looked up to see his father. His smile appeared strained but he nodded at his son encouragingly. "I love you, mother," Kurt said, squeezing her hand before he laid it gently against the covers once more.

"Burton," Kurt heard his aunt address his father, removing her brother's hand from Kurt's shoulder and replacing it with her own. "I'll take care of him. You should stay by Elizabeth's side." With that, Vivienne guided Kurt away from his parents.

"How long will they be in there, Aunt Vivienne?" Kurt asked, taking the tall woman's hand as she walked briskly down the hall.

Her expression faltered slightly but it had recovered in a moment, and she smiled pleasantly at her nephew. "As long as it takes."

"As long as what takes?" Kurt pursued, but his aunt did not answer him again.

They were almost halfway to the royal children's playroom when they turned a corner to see a serving woman struggling with a shallow basin of water. Upon seeing the queen and her young nephew, the woman was so startled that she almost dropped the thing entirely. "Y-your Majesty," she stuttered, regaining her grip on the basin and quickly lifting a hand to wipe at her cheeks, which were wet.

Kurt's mouth opened in an o-shape when he saw the woman's red eyes, and he let go of his aunt's hand to run to her. "Daphne," he exclaimed, face drawn up in worry. "What's the matter? Why are you sad? Oh, when mother gets out of bed, she'll fix whatever it is! I promise!"

Daphne seemed to be at a loss for words. She gaped at Kurt for several long seconds before regaining sense of self and quickly dropping into a curtsy for the queen, who then approached. "Daphne," she said sternly. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Someone asked for lavender water in Lady Elizabeth's chamber," Daphne said, eyes lowered. "I was doing fine until…I thought too hard on the matter, I suppose. I've been fretting over her condition so."

The queen's expression softened slightly and she nodded shortly. "As a servant as dedicated to her as you have been no doubt would," she said kindly, stepping forward to relieve the servant of the basin.

"Oh, Your Majesty!" Daphne exclaimed, coloring to the roots of her bright blonde hair. "You shouldn't be carrying things around, please. Let me."

"Nonsense, Daphne," the queen said, setting the basin to the side of the large hall. "I'll leave it here. If you'll continue on with Prince Kurt to the playroom, he'll work with Schoolmaster Schuester and Prince David. I shall return to Elizabeth's rooms and send another to come fetch the basin for her."

"As you wish, Majesty," Daphne acquiesced, dipping in another curtsey.

The queen nodded once more at the serving woman and raised her hand to wiggle her fingers at Kurt with such a complete lack of decorum that both Daphne and Kurt had to clap their hands over their mouths to prevent giggles from escaping.

After the woman had turned and begun to walk away, Kurt began to proceed down the hall once again, this time with Daphne rather than his aunt. "But really Daphne," Kurt continued, reaching up to take her hand as they walked. "You shouldn't ever be sad about _anything_. You know, mother says that she's never had a better helper-lady than you _all_ the time. She loves you lots; I think you should just tell her what's bothering you and she'll help!"

"We'll see, Prince Kurt," Daphne responding, voice wavering. They walked in silence for a moment, and Daphne took the time to collect her composure before she spoke again. "Going to the playroom to have a bit of fun, then?"

"No," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "Aunt Vivienne said that David and Schoolmaster Schuester are practicing letters and I should go along and do the same." He swung their interlocked hands back and forth, a mischievous smile flitting onto his face.

Suddenly, Kurt had stopped walking and he lifted his free hand to ensnare one of the servant woman's hands with both of his – prime begging position. "Please, Daphne, don't make me go. Dave never plays fair." He batted his large blue eyes at her. "What's Sammy doing right now? Can't I go play with him instead? Please, Daphne?"

"_My_ Sammy?" Her voice was filled with faux-shock, and she shook her head tragically. "You know that I can't disobey the Queen, Prince Kurt," Daphne told him, kneeling down so they were at eye level. "Samuel is with the rest of the children, all the way down on the palace's ground floor. That's an awful long way from the playroom." She yawned widely and rubbed her eyes. "I sure am tired, though. I might fall asleep any second!"

Kurt giggled excitedly, hands clasped to his mouth. "Go to sleep, Daphne," he said in a singsong voice. "Go to sleep!"

"You know I can't go to sleep when I'm supposed to be taking you to the playroom, Prince Kurt," she told him with a wink and another yawn. "But maybe I'll close my eyes for just a second, because I am awfully sleepy. I probably won't see anything at all happen once I shut them. I might even forget why I came over here…" With another dramatic yawn, Daphne leaned back against a wall and closed her eyes. In a moment, loud snoring noises were to be heard coming from her.

Trying to keep from laughing, Kurt backed away, facing Daphne until he had to turn the corner. Upon reaching the boundary out of her potential sight, he ran quickly to the nearest set of stairs that proceeded down to the ground floor.

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><p>Kurt hurried to the rooms where the children of the palace servants sometimes passed the time. He was confident that no one would notice he wasn't where he was supposed to be, since his schoolmaster and David didn't know he was coming and Sam's mother would never tell, for obvious reasons. He hurried out of excitement.<p>

Kurt had always gotten along better with the servant children than with David, and the royal children at the palace were few – his parents said that as they got older, more nobles would come to stay at court. Dave always insisted on doing what he called "things for people like us". The other children were content to do anything at all, be it playing tag in the castle halls or rolling around in the mud outside, though Kurt himself would never engage in the latter event.

He peeked into the crowded room and immediately identified Sam's bright head of hair, the same shade as that of his mother. Kurt had always been fascinated by their golden tresses.

Formulating a secret plan, Kurt crept around the very edge of the room, going unnoticed by the other children, even in his intricate royal garb. He crouched behind a stack of boxes close to his friend, and peeked his head around the other side. Sam sat close by, with one of the children of the new servants brought to the palace. He had heard they were from the south, but Kurt was not sure of exactly where. When Kurt inquired about the new child with the different skin, Daphne had informed him that her name came all the way from Spain, but she was no different from either of them. Kurt was not completely sure where Spain was, but it had to be somewhere far away. As for being different, he quickly figured that if having such golden hair didn't make Sam and Daphne different from him, having different skin wouldn't make the girl they called Mercedes any different either.

Sam seemed to like her, at least. But Mercedes wasn't who Kurt had come for. He had come for Sam, and he still needed to carry out the secret plan: namely, escaping his fate of practicing letters. The fact that he had as good as eluded it already was hardly significant to the five year old.

"Psst," Kurt hissed from behind the barrier. "Psst, Sammy!" He peered out with one eye to see both Sam and Mercedes turn to look at him inquisitively. "Sam!" Kurt repeated unnecessarily, hands clasped in a tunnel around his mouth, making his voice echo out and catch the attention of half the kids in the room. "C'mere!"

Sam squinted his eyes at Kurt, who was hiding behind the boxes. He said something to Mercedes that Kurt couldn't hear, and by the time he reached the hidden prince, the majority of the other children had forgotten about them entirely.

"Kurt, what're you doing down here?" Sam asked, sitting down with crossed legs next to the young royal. "What about your mom?"

"There are too many people up there," Kurt responded shortly, picking at a thread on his expensive outfit. "Aunt Vivienne sent me to go practice letters with Dave," Sam's face took on a shocked expression, "but I don't _want_ to."

"But if the Queen said –"

"But it's different for me," Kurt defended his actions stubbornly. "I can do what I want." Sam glanced away uncomfortably. "And I want to play with you! I wish you were my cousin Sammy, not David."

Slowly, a smile spread across the young boy's face, though it was apparent he was fighting it every step of the way. "That would be so _weird_," he said, finally giving in to his grin. "I could go to your lessons with Schoolmaster Schuester and learn my letters."

"I promised that I would teach you when I learned them well enough."

"But it isn't the same thing," Sam said, head bent. "That'll all be secret." Kurt made a dissatisfied noise at the back of his throat, and shifted around on the floor. Sam was quiet for a moment, but it was he who broke the silence, face breaking into a mischievous smile. "You know, Kurt, Mama said that the courtiers are arriving for the summer season today! We can go spy on them as they come in the entrance hall."

Kurt's eyes got wide. "Is that allowed?" Sam's conspiratorial smile was answer enough. "How will we not be seen? Uncle Paul always greets the lords that come for the summer and father says that he has eyes like an eagle."

"I know a secret way," Sam said, standing and offering Kurt his hand. "Down the servant's corridor."

Kurt hardly thought a moment before grabbing his friend's outstretched hand and letting himself be tugged down the hall and through a small door that led into a narrow stone passage. "Whoa," Kurt breathed in wonder. "I've never seen this place before. How come you haven't shown me this place, Sammy? It would be a perfect spot to hide from the guards!"

"I never really thought about it before," Sam replied with a shrug, leading Kurt through the maze of halls.

"How do you remember your way around?"

"Mama taught me how to get around back here." Kurt's brow crinkled in momentary jealousy at his friend's words, but he didn't have time to dwell on it, because they arrived at the entrance room of the castle sooner than he had anticipated. The servants' corridor provided a shorter path than that of the main hall. "We're here."

Sam cracked another small door open, and the two small boys slipped out. When Sam closed it again, the door melded into the wall as if it had never opened at all. The numerous draperies and many decorations in the entrance hall provided ample space for them to hide.

At the front of the hall – not really the entrance to the palace, in spite of its name – sat Kurt's uncle, Vivienne's husband, and David's father, King Paul. Kurt wasn't surprised that his uncle was here rather than with his mother, as many other royals were. The king was the only one needed to greet the nobles that came to the royal court's summer season from across the nation.

Queen Vivienne usually sat by her husband's side, but her personal tie with Elizabeth was much stronger than that of anyone else. Kurt knew from stories that his aunt and uncle had an arranged marriage; his aunt and father had come from a neighboring country when Vivienne and Paul's engagement was announced. His aunt had told him many stories about how uneasy she was in her first few months in Algania's capital city, and how Elizabeth had been the first to reach out and befriend her, even before she fell in love with Kurt's father. Kurt was not surprised by this; it seemed exactly like something his mother would do.

"Kurt," Sam whispered, tugging on his sleeve and pointing out at the line of people assembled. "Look at that!"

Kurt's eyes traveled the direction of Sam's pointing finger. "Schoolmaster Schuester taught us about them," he whispered in return. The man that Sam pointed to was cloaked – literally cloaked – in abnormal garb wholly atypical of that of a courtesan. "He said that they live in the southeast, in cities made of the earth."

"Strange," Sam murmured. "But why is he here?"

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. Most of the time, he liked to pretend that he had all of the answers. When he was only half sure of something he made the rest up, but he was truly clueless on the matter of Sam's question. "Schoolmaster Schuester said that Uncle Paul is a peacemaking king or something. He doesn't bother them if they don't bother us."

"I think…everybody should be friends," Sam said eventually.

"You should tell that to Dave," Kurt mumbled, still grumpy when he thought about his cousin.

"Kurt, I think if you and Prince David –"

"_Hello!_" The greeting sounded out from behind the spying boys, making both of them jump. Kurt knew that a squeal had burst from his throat at least, but a quick glance at the nobles assembled showed that none had noticed.

He turned around angrily, startled to see that the perpetrator was just another boy, who looked to be the same age as himself. "I'm sorry! Did I scare you?"

"No," Kurt said quickly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I wasn't scared. I wasn't at all. Were you scared, Sammy? Were you? I wasn't…"

"Er…no," Sam piped in, shaking his head quickly. "I wasn't spying, either." His eyes quickly traveled to the third boy's clothing, a habit that he couldn't help. His eyes widened as he saw that this boy was also richly dressed. He wasn't as fancy as Kurt always appeared, but Sam would be a fool not to notice that he was one of the nobles in town for the summer season. Kurt was the only noble or royal that Sam spent time with, and even then it was only because Burton and Elizabeth were strong believers in choosing your own crowd, and Paul and Vivienne were obliged to allow it; he wasn't accustomed to being around the few other royal children the palace housed.

Suddenly, Sam was feeling very cognizant of his true station in the palace: he was only the son of Lady Elizabeth's servant. "I should go back," he said quickly, bowing his head and looking at the floor. "I never told anyone where I was going, and…I should go back."

"Sam!" Before Kurt could stop him – for he didn't want to speak too loud, with the king and his nobles so near – Sam had slipped behind the servant door. Kurt turned angry eyes on the intruder. "Look what you did," he accused.

"It isn't _my_ fault he left," the boy defended himself. "I just wanted to say hello. My father and I just got here, and you're the first children I've seen."

Kurt paused to survey the newcomer. It was obvious that he didn't know who he really was from the assured expression on his face. The boy's head was topped with unruly ebony curls that Kurt had the mad urge to run his hands through, or examine at least, and his eyes were a startling shade of amber that Kurt had never seen in the court before – at least, not from his low vantage point. "Who are you?" He asked finally.

"Blaine Anderson," said the boy, puffing out his chest. "Of Westerville. Father says since this is the first time our family has been invited to the summer season at court, I should be on extra good behavior."

"Is that why you snuck away from wherever you were supposed to be? Why you're here, hiding behind a vase?" Kurt asked the questions smugly, feeling that he had won some points for his clever answer. Westerville…he remembered that name. Suddenly, it occurred to him. He had heard the name Westerville in the same conversation in which Schoolmaster Schuester was talking about the earth tribes of the southeast. The Lord of Westerville was the one who had organized the peace treaty between King Paul and the tribes.

"Well, who are you then?" Blaine asked indignantly.

Kurt smiled slowly. "Kurt Hummel, of…right here in the palace." He was met with a blank stare. "The King and Queen are my aunt and uncle." He saw the moment realization dawned on Blaine's face, but he didn't get the satisfaction of seeing the boy cowed. He looked at Kurt levelly, gaze never faltering.

A long moment passed in such a way. Kurt wasn't sure who smiled first, him or Blaine, but all of the sudden they were both taken up in the type of giggles that both five year old boys and girls are often prone to. Kurt quickly grabbed Blaine's hand and pulled him around a nearby corner and into another passage so they would be safe from the potential danger of lurking nearby to the king and his newly arrived procession.

When he had regained composure, Kurt looked at Blaine strangely, head tilting to the side. "You're kind of strange," he told the curly-haired boy.

"Maybe you're the strange one," Blaine combated with a grin. "Perhaps I'm perfectly normal."

Kurt considered this seriously for a moment. "Maybe we're both a little strange," he decided.

Blaine was silent for a few minutes, but he still did not look away from Kurt. "Kurt," he said finally.

"Mhmm?"

"You're still holding my hand," Blaine informed him matter-of-factly.

"Oh!" Alarmed and flushing to the roots of his carefully groomed hair, Kurt quickly dropped the other boy's hand. "I'm...I mean, I didn't even notice."

Blaine smiled crookedly. "That's okay," he said with all the innocent good nature of a small child yet to be influenced by his society. He grabbed Kurt's hand again. "It's kind of nice. People should hold hands everywhere they go."

"You'll be here all summer, right?" Kurt asked. Blaine responded with a nod, making Kurt's face light up in a grin. "Then we should definitely do that."

"Hold hands everywhere we go?" Kurt nodded enthusiastically at his question, making Blaine smile wider. "I think you were right: we're both definitely a little strange. Mhmm."

"Mother says different isn't bad," Kurt informed Blaine, smile fading when Blaine's faltered. "What?"

"…_My_ father says that you should try to blend in," Blaine said quietly, ducking his head.

"Where is the fun in that?" Kurt was still beaming at Blaine brightly. Slowly, the smile returned to Blaine's face. Kurt nodded assuredly and began to meander down the hallway, swinging their interlocked hands between them. "Besides, you're here now, not at home. Here, people always run to do what mother says. She knows what she's talking about, I promise."

"Can I meet her?" Blaine asked suddenly.

"She's sick right now. But she'll be better by next season," Kurt told the other boy assuredly. "If your father is invited to court next summer, you should meet her then." Blaine nodded eagerly. "But you can come meet the other children now – the nice ones – and Daphne too! That's Sam's real mom, but she's like my second mother. She's _so_ nice. She doesn't make me to study with David all the time, only _some_ of the time."

"David," Blaine said. "Prince David? I know who that is – he's the King's heir."

"Mhmm," Kurt murmured absently, feet beginning to skip in place of a normal, boring walk. It only took a moment for Blaine to pick up the skipping as well. "He's my cousin, and he's only nice _half_ of the time. But come on! You've never been to the palace before, which means I have _lots_ of things to show you. There are lots of good places to hide from guards!"

"Why would you want to do that? Do they chase you?"

"No, but sometimes if you ask really nicely, they'll pretend to…"

Excitedly, Kurt and Blaine went on their way throughout the castle.

* * *

><p>The summer of 615, only several noble families brought children to court for the season, and none of them were as young as Kurt and Blaine. This resulted in the two spending the majority of their time together; indeed, they were almost inseparable from May to early September.<p>

At the end of the summer, Blaine promised Kurt that he would be back next year at the same time. Of course, this decision did not lie within his power, and even though the Lord of Westerville was never denied an invitation to the capital for the summer season from that year on, he did not permit his son to accompany him after that first year.

The first summer after he'd been parted from Blaine, Kurt had waited anxiously in the entrance hall for the moment he would see his friend once more. The past few months had been terrible for the young prince. His beloved mother had died the previous autumn, and he was looking for anything to distract him from the memory of her. But though Kurt saw the Lord of Westerville among the guests, his young son did not accompany him.

As the summers passed, Kurt's memory of Blaine faded into the recesses of his mind. The next time he saw the other boy would be more than five long years since they'd first met, when the memory of Blaine Anderson had all but faded from his mind.

* * *

><p><em>AN: There we go, the first meeting of little Kurt and little Blaine. Next chapter, you guys will get to meet a whole slew of new characters, including Mercedes (in person), Rachel, Brittany, Quinn, and Prince David himself! Blaine's second entrance might also see him flanked by a posse of his own: Wes, David, Jeff, and Nick. )_

_Thanks for reading! :)_


	3. Chapter 3 :: The Second Meeting

_A/N: Hello there! First of all, I'd like to welcome you back or thank you for reading this far :) There are a few things I want to say and a question I want to ask you, as the readers, but I'll elaborate that in the end author's note - I don't want to spoil anything in this chapter!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Early Autumn, 621 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

"Almost," Kurt said softly as he looked over Sam's shoulder at the paper his friend was writing on. "You have one too many bumps on the 'm'." Kurt had been teaching Sam his letters, just as he'd always promised. They had gotten through memorizing letters and their sounds, and they had just moved on to spelling out short words. Kurt thought the best place to start was where Schoolmaster Schuester had started with him: spelling his own name.

"I feel like an idiot," Sam complained, setting down the quill carefully so he didn't splatter any ink. "I feel like that _thing_," he meant the quill, "shouldn't be in my hand – like it's taking the place of what I'm supposed to work with." As soon as he'd been old enough to work, Sam had taken up the position of stable boy. That was several years ago; even though the boys were only eleven years old, Sam was already accustomed to manual labor.

"But we've been planning this for so long…"

"I guess," Sam said shortly, tone resigned. "I don't think I really knew what hiding meant back then."

Kurt raised a skeptical eyebrow. They were out of the way, to be sure, but Kurt would hardly call it hiding. He was certain that his parents, and even his aunt, knew that he was aiding Sam on the road to literacy and none of them raised qualms about it, even if it was an unheard of practice. "Are you kidding me?" Kurt retorted. "We hid from the guards all the same."

A funny strangled noise came from his friend, and when Kurt looked down, Sam was turning red from attempting to withhold his laughter. "Some things really don't ever change."

"Hey!" Kurt retorted indignantly. "I was just curious! The repercussions were just because I didn't plan it out enough."

"Or at all," Sam pointed out. Just last week, Kurt had decided that he and Sam needed to switch places for a day. He gave Sam one of his fine princely outfits, along with a hat to obscure his tell-tale hair, and dressed himself in the humble servant clothes Sam usually wore.

Kurt had spent all day at the stables. He had gone into the kitchen that afternoon and requested a snack from their cook, Mercedes's mother, as he often did. When the guards had seen what looked like a servant coming from the kitchen with an armful of food, they had thought he was stealing extra rations and had chased him throughout the first floor. Kurt had, of course, played along, finding the whole experience quite exhilarating. When he finally got tired of running and turned around, the guards had promptly begun a series of profuse apologies, all on bended knee.

"Anyways," Kurt said pointedly, glaring at his friend. "One too many bumps on the 'm'. Everything else looks good though. You really are picking this up quickly, even if you don't think –"

At that moment, the door to Kurt's inner chambers, where they'd been tucked away, opened and a curly head poked through.

"Mercedes," Kurt said, annoyed. "Don't you know that you aren't supposed to disrupt royalty?"

"You aren't royalty," she countered with a grin. Kurt scoffed, feigning injury, but he knew that Mercedes's remark was good-natured. She would not have dared to say that to anyone but him, and she only said it in the first place because she knew that he often saw himself as a human first and royalty second. "But it _does_ call. Prince David sent me to find you."

Kurt and Sam exchanged a glance. "Why? Did he mention?"

"He said that you would try to get out of coming by asking that." She hesitated, breaking eye contact with him. "And that you should stop wasting your time with the servants when there are people worth impressing arriving at the castle."

Kurt's face clouded over at her words – it was typical Dave, to say something like that. "And that," he said pointedly, "is exactly why I would _rather_ be with the both of you." Nevertheless, he stood and turned to the door, shooting an apologetic glance at Sam. "We'll finish this tomorrow?"

Sam nodded once, and Kurt followed Mercedes out of the door and into the hall. "You know that Dave is just…strange. Aunt Vivienne doesn't mind me being with you."

"But Queen Vivienne won't be the sole head of the nation one day," Mercedes pointed out. "Prince David will."

"But I'll always be here to look after you," Kurt promised her. Mercedes shot him a grateful grin but didn't say anything else. "I can't believe you said I wasn't royalty," he continued playfully. "If I demand that you carry me the rest of the way, will that change your mind?"

Mercedes broke out into a full chuckle. "It'll get you on Prince David's good side, too."

"Well, in that case," Kurt said flippantly, leaning on the girl before both of them broke out in laughter.

Unfortunately, it was at just that moment that Prince Dave himself decided to step around the corner. He was much bigger than Kurt, hefty for an eleven year old, as opposed to Kurt who was spry and spritely. "Get lost on the way?" Dave shot, glaring at Mercedes, who immediately bowed her head.

"Stop, David," Kurt commanded with an imperious tone. He hardly ever used it, but he had inherited an authoritative voice that commanded the attention of others when he wanted it to. "What is it?" To intervene and keep Mercedes from getting into trouble that she didn't deserve, Kurt turned her. "That's all." His voice held the same tone but he'd turned himself so that Dave couldn't see when Kurt winked at her.

"What was that?" His cousin asked as Mercedes began to retreat. "Honestly Kurt, I don't know how you hang around with those people. I can't stand them."

"Unfortunate, seeing as they make our lives here possible," Kurt said dryly. "But I repeat: What is it, David?"

"People are beginning to arrive."

"That's _today_?"

"I knew you'd forget. Kurt, you are a _prince_. You can't forget things like this."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I just didn't realize it had come up so quickly." Kurt had been told by his parents that as nobles got older, more of them would come to court. Over time, he'd had the process explained to him exactly.

Eleven, the age he and Dave were now, was a pivotal age in the life of a child of the nobility. The young ladies came to court to stay through their teenage years and learn from the older woman. Somewhere in their late teens, they would have hopefully married a nobleman. The young men came to court for a different purpose. If they were the only or oldest son, they were obligated to come to be assigned by the king to a fief owned by a grown knight. They would be his page and then squire, aiding him in everything he did. In Paul's rule this didn't entail much, but during times of war the life of a page and squire was much more trying. When the men hit their eighteenth year, they returned to the castle to be knighted by the king and pledge loyalty to the realm.

Of course, that didn't apply to Kurt and David. As princes, they would be trained in the castle – it was too dangerous to send them off somewhere. They would get the same training in the castle as the others did elsewhere; in fact, Kurt had already begun his education in some of the arts of war.

Most of the girls were already at court, having filtered in through the summer season, but there was an assigned date for the boys to come and present themselves for the king's judgment. They came in the early days of autumn, and there was one week in which they stayed at court. It was perfectly timed so they could make it back to their assigned fief before winter.

"If you hadn't been bumping shoulders with those servants, you might have remembered," Dave accused.

Kurt simply rolled his eyes. He was done arguing about that. Nothing his cousin said would change his habits now or ever.

"When we're introduced to the new arrivals, at least pretend to possess some state of propriety."

"You don't even know what that word means," Kurt accused.

"I do to!" Dave shot back, for once acting his own age instead of pretending to be older than he was. "It's the thing that princes are supposed to have that makes them _different_ than all the common folk. Too bad you have to _pretend_ to have it."

"I don't have to pretend," Kurt grumbled darkly.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, neither wanting to sacrifice their dignity to start up small talk. Dave led them to a greeting room. It was smaller than the entrance hall in which Kurt had once spied on his uncle receiving the summer court, more suited for smaller receptions.

The king would not be there. He would not meet with the arriving boys in person until they were to be assigned, later in the week. Today's sole purpose was a welcome, and for that he had designated Duke Burton to receive the arriving boys. The young people of that year would all be in attendance, for these were the same men and women who were supposed to make marriages in a few years.

Kurt and Dave were there after Duke Burton but before the newcomers. "Running late," Kurt's father commented as they arrived.

"My fault, father," Kurt accepted graciously.

"It's true," Dave agreed blandly, making Kurt glower even harder.

"Boys," said Burton. "Put aside this rivalry for half an hour so I can receive the guests, please?"

Both of the boys nodded and moved into their allotted positions behind the Duke. From that moment, it all moved very quickly. The two groups, boys and girls, made their way in, though the girls had already been at court anywhere from a few days to a few months.

Kurt had heard some of their names already, though he hadn't spent much time fraternizing with any of them beyond a few words. He would always quickly excuse himself in favor of the company he preferred. But there were also several new female arrivals that he had not seen: two blondes and one brunette. They were introduced by their keepers as Quinn, Brittany, and Santana, respectively.

As for the boys, there were only two arrivals, a statistic that surprised Kurt. Their nation was small, to be sure, but usually there were more than two male arrivals. One was a strong looking boy with a misbehaved glimmer to his gaze who introduced himself as Noah. The other was a slightly scrawny boy who was introduced as Arthur.

Kurt stood there, fake smile adhered to his face as his father received and welcomed the little nobles and their companies. It was brief, as there were not many people to welcome – Burton commented that they had been expecting more prospective knights, and he would have to look into the shortage of young boys. He soon ushered the companies away, ordering Dave and Kurt to stay with the new arrivals and keep them company. He gave a special, fixed glare to Kurt.

After the adults left, the young crowd sat for a few moments in awkward silence. Dave was the first one to break the quiet – Kurt knew that he would have said it was his duty as heir to make the future court feel at home. "So where are you two hoping to get assigned for your page years?" He asked properly, squaring his shoulders.

"Wherever it is," the boy called Noah immediately spoke up. "It hardly matters – I'm going to be the best knight in the realm. No one will be able to beat me."

Kurt let out a quiet scoff, earning a glare from his cousin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind when I'm king," Dave responded haughtily.

Kurt rolled his eyes dramatically. He wasn't aware that anyone could see the action until he heard a little giggle erupt from one of the girls. Eyebrows rising on his forehead, he sat forward on his seat to see who it had been. His eyes immediately travelled past Quinn; her judgmental gaze told him that she'd seen him, but she was certainly not the one who had laughed. That had been Brittany, the other blonde one. She was still looking at him, eyes crinkled in amusement. Carefully, Kurt returned the grin. He hardly dared to hope that he had found someone - another _noble_ – that he could identify with. The only time he had done that before was…

…but that was a long time ago. Kurt hardly remembered the boy who had come to their court during that one summer so many years past – well, so many years in his short life.

"I would like to get assigned somewhere that has a resourceful library," the other boy spoke up – Arthur. "I feel like reading up on your field studies is just as important, if not more important than practicing."

This was not something that Dave seemed to agree with, as Kurt could see through the sudden crooked set of his eyebrows. It was so subtle that anyone who hadn't been around him their whole life wouldn't have noticed it.

"I'm just glad I get to stay here." Santana. "_And_ I'm glad that I get to learn to be a lady, and I don't have to do any of that training. I wouldn't need to train to beat all of you."

"How could you _say_ that?" Quinn asked her, sounding shocked. "You're hardly acting like a proper lady right now."

"We aren't ladies _yet_," Santana pointed out, rolling her eyes.

For a moment, Kurt thought that Dave had suffered cardiac arrest at an early age – his mouth was trembling and his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. Only the sound of laughter bubbling from his cousin's throat told Kurt that he wasn't actually dying a premature death.

"Oh that's _funny?_" Santana asked. "What, you don't believe that I could beat you? Just because I'm a girl?"

"Uh, that's _exactly_ why I don't believe you," Dave told her. "No offense. I'm sure you'll be a lovely flower sitting on the side of my court."

As if only just reminded that this was _Prince_ Dave, Santana sat back in her chair and settled on glowering at anyone who looked at her for more than two seconds.

"I think Dave is just scared that he really could get beaten by a girl," Kurt remarked airily, smirk twisting his lips. A few of the other children laughed hesitantly, something Dave did not take kindly to.

"I think that we ruled out that possibility last time I beat _you_, cousin," he responded sneeringly.

Kurt's face momentarily fell. It wasn't the first remark of that nature Dave had made toward him, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "If you're too afraid," he said. "I understand."

"I am _not_ afraid," Dave responded, standing up. "And I will not be made a fool of by you or any other girl. Let's go." He marched out of the door, leaving everyone else gaping.

"Looks like we have a challenge," Kurt told them all, getting up to follow Dave to the dueling arenas.

He had been practicing sword fighting for under a year – that was what Dave had beaten him at last time. But Kurt had been an archer since he was eight, and he planned on that being the medium for a duel this time. Dave wouldn't be happy about it, but at this point Kurt knew he would to anything to save his pride.

"Nu-uh, cousin," Kurt said as Dave reached for the practice swords. He nodded to the archery field. "Let's do this one my way."

Dave looked mutinous for a moment, but the sight of all the noble children that had followed them to the dueling arenas made his final decision for him. They hadn't all come, some had stayed inside. The only ones who had followed were the newest arrivals: Quinn, Brittany, Santana, Noah, and Arthur. Perhaps the others had been around court long enough to be used to Kurt and Dave's on and off competitions. "Fine."

They grabbed their own bows. Dave never was as adept at archery as Kurt and they both knew it. Kurt had all of his archery equipment kept by the strip, including a longbow that had been made custom. He deftly strapped the guard to his left arm and slipped a glove onto his right.

"Need help?" He asked as he passed his cousin, who was struggling to fasten his own glove.

"Not from you," Dave grumbled.

The small group walked to one archery strip: they would shoot at the same target with different colored arrows. Quinn, Santana, Noah, and Arthur sat on a viewing bench but Brittany ran up to Kurt.

"Kurt," she called, approaching him. "I mean…Prince Kurt?"

Kurt's brow twisted, expressing his quizzical interest in this new girl. "Brittany," he greeted her in return. "What is it? I – I mean, how can I assist you?"

With a wide smile, she lifted up a flower. "Mother says that a lady is always supposed to give favors to a knight before they duel," she said seriously. "But, she also said that lady favors are best given in secret…so that makes me confused… But anyways, I don't think I'm old enough to have lady favors yet, so I picked this flower for you on the way over here."

"From?" Kurt asked with a bemused smile.

"That pretty place over there," Brittany told him, turning to point. "The one we passed on the way here."

"The Queen's Garden," Kurt told her with a nod, accepting the flower gently. He had to force his smile down to normal size. "You know that it's illegal to pick from the Queen's Garden?" Brittany looked unfazed.

"Um…thanks, Brittany," Kurt said, inclining his head in thanks. He went to tuck the long stem into a strap on his vest but she reached out and stopped him.

"No, no, no," she said, shaking her head. "Flowers aren't meant for clothes."

"Then what am I –?"

"Like this." She took the flower from him and tucked it behind his ear before he could protest. "That's the only place for a flower. It's as if…your head could be the flower pot. You understand?"

"I do." It was only a little lie. He patted her hand in thanks, making her smile widely.

"Now you'll win for sure!"

"I'm sure there was no doubt of that," Kurt replied, mind returning to the matter at hand. "Go sit, Brittany. We'll just see how this whole thing plays out." She skipped off, still looking pleased with herself.

"Oh that's just too good," Dave said, having finally fastened the catch on his special glove for archery. Kurt's hand rose to the flower behind his ear. "What were you saying earlier again?"

"Just shoot," was all Kurt said in response. "How many arrows each?"

"Three rounds of three."

"Three it is," responded Kurt, grabbing six arrows, three of each color. They would retrieve them between rounds. He handed one set to his cousin.

"Future kings first," Dave said, grabbing his arrows.

"I thought it was ladies' first?" Kurt barely heard Brittany's comment from where she was sitting on the bench, but he had to stifle laughter.

Dave fired all three in quick succession, landing them all close to the center of the target. The small crowd of nobles all clapped politely.

Kurt moved into place. He fired them slower than Dave had, lining each one up properly. In the end, his arrows were clustered in a tiny circle at the very center of the target. "Good thing we're doing best two out of three," Kurt remarked lightly as his last arrow landed perfectly.

"Don't get so high and mighty," Dave warned him. "That was luck." They both knew that wasn't true.

They retrieved their arrows and reshot. This time, David claimed that his arrows were fractionally closer to the center than Kurt's. The latter didn't believe him, but he gave his cousin the point. He still had one chance.

There was one round left; Kurt and Dave had each won one. Dave landed his arrows close to the center, once again. Kurt's two arrows landed in the center. He had one arrow left. The young prince drew back the string. He anchored his thumb at the corner of his lip, as he'd been instructed. He rotated his left elbow out so the string wouldn't hit it when he released. He tensed the muscles under the lateral border of his scapula, preparing to release.

Just when his fingers had all but let go of the arrow, a greeting sounded from somewhere behind him.

"_Hello!_"

It was just enough to make Kurt twitch. A moment later, his arrow landed on the very outer edge of the target. Dave let out a holler and went to examine the arrows closer but Kurt hardly noticed him. Suddenly, his head was filled with a buzzing that drowned out every other noise. He knew that voice.

He had heard that greeting before – that _exact_ greeting. Quickly, Kurt turned from the target; the game was suddenly the very last thing on his mind. Before him stood the same boy he'd met behind the vase as a younger child. A name floated up from the recesses of Kurt's mind: _Blaine Anderson._

Kurt hardly dared to believe it was really him. It was like staring at a fuzzy memory from his past that had suddenly been thrown into high relief. But he had all the same features – the same unruly ebony curls, the same deep amber eyes that always looked as if they were sharing an inside joke with you alone. It was him. It had to be.

Kurt didn't remember dropping his bow. He didn't even remember beginning to run but before he knew it he was hurtling toward the newcomer. An identical process of recognition, shock, momentary denial and eventual acceptance passed across Blaine's face before he stepped forward to meet Kurt.

Somewhere on the brief run, Kurt had transitioned from shocked stillness to excited hyper-activeness. Blaine had begun to smile widely, and he held out both of his hands as Kurt approached. When he reached him, Kurt grasped both of Blaine's hands in his own, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet as soon as he stopped.

"Blaine –"

"Kurt –"

"I can't believe –"

"I know! I'm –"

"You never –"

"I'm so sorry –"

"I waited –"

"I begged my father –"

"You never showed up –"

"He wouldn't permit me to leave." Blaine's amber eyes looked genuinely worried. "He made me stay in Westerville; I asked him every summer –"

"Every summer?" Kurt interrupted, grinning widely. "Did you?"

"Of course." Blaine paused. "I missed you though. I…well, was kind of hoping that you would be here."

"I live here," Kurt informed him, squeezing Blaine's hand and making the other boy blush.

"Right…I mean, well I knew that, I just –" He cleared his throat uncomfortably, eyes traveling to Kurt's ear. "That's a nice touch," Blaine said, touching the flower lightly. His lips curled into a bemused smile. "Is that court fashion now? I'm not sure I could pull it off. It might get lost somewhere."

"Well, with that head of curls –"

"_Kurt?_" The sound of Dave's accusatory voice made Kurt cringe. "What are you doing? Who are these people?"

Kurt looked beyond Blaine, surprised. In his excitement to see Blaine, he hadn't even noticed that there were four other boys flanking him.

"Blaine Anderson of Westerville," Blaine said, stepping forward and releasing Kurt. Both of their hands had been clasped prior to that and Kurt partially wished that everyone else would go away so they could be alone. "This is Wesley, David, Nicholas, and Jeffrey. We met on the way to court. We're here to be assigned by the king."

Kurt's heart instantly sank. Blaine had only been back for a matter of minutes and in the short time they'd been reunited, Kurt had never contemplated the reality that Blaine would be taken away again. For a moment, he was bitter that they should be reunited and torn from each other again.

"Late," Dave remarked, ignoring Blaine's outstretched hand. "You should have been here at the assigned time."

"I was under the impression that _today_ was the right time," Blaine said slowly.

"Talking back, too," Dave commented, as if he was making a list. "I'm sure father will give you a _wonderful_ assignment for your page years, especially if I get to talk to him first."

For the first time, Blaine's self-assured gaze flickered. "Father…?"

"Oh I didn't introduce myself?" Dave asked with false congeniality. "Perhaps it's because I'm so used to people just _knowing_ who I am, as they should." He looked into Blaine's eyes and only then gripped the other boy's hand, which he'd left to hang in limbo. "Prince Dave."

Blaine looked momentarily abashed but he soon recovered, that distinctive twinkle returning to his eyes. "Prince Dave," he repeated. Blaine's gaze cut sideways to Kurt, and his mouth turned upward in a sly smile. "Kurt's told me all about you." Slowly, an identical smile found its place on Kurt's lips.

* * *

><p><em>AN: And thus, our boys meet again! I hope you're all still enjoying this story - next chapter we'll get more of Blainers. I had intended on their second meeting being in one chapter, as the first was, but it had stretched out too long and I thought it best to cut in two._

_Now for what I mentioned at the beginning! I know that I said in the last chapter Rachel would be in this one but as I was writing, I had a change of heart and decided to tweak her story a little bit. She'll come in around the same time as Finn, which will be two chapters from now. In return for that, I decided to bring in Artie and Puck early, as you all saw. I wasn't initially going to have Artie at all, as his disability would prevent him from knighthood, but I've found a good way to work that in ;) For now, he's completely mobile, though._

_And now the question! As you all no doubt know, this fic is rated T as it stands. This is the lowest rating it will go - with the context of the first chapter and some things I have planned for later, I don't feel like it should be lower. But! Y'all know it's a Klaine fic, and just yesterday, as I was finishing up this chapter, I got some...oh, ideas :D These "ideas" would deeeefinately make it a rated M fic. Since it started out as a rated T, I thought I'd ask you all for your opinions! Would you like to see some scenes (this wouldn't be for a handful of chapters, though I'd change the rating soon) that would up the temperature in the room and make for some rated M scenes? Let me know! I'll probably write the scenes anyway, there is one that just won't leave my mind alone, but whether they make their way into this story is up to y'all! :D_

_Once again, thanks so much for reading! _


	4. Chapter 4 :: The Second Farewell

_A/N: So it looks like the 'ayes' have it... unanimously, really :D I want to get all Chris Colfer and say "calm down perverts!" but I asked for it and honestly, I'm rather excited to add those rated M scenes. They won't be for a bit, but I might as well change the rating now!_

_Sorry this chapter is pretty short but I didn't want to add filler story that wasn't relevant. I'd rather keep it all important :D_

_Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Early Autumn, 621 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

"No!" Kurt shrieked, sprinting down the ground floor halls of the castle. His feet pattered quickly on the stone, carrying him rapidly through the twisting labyrinth of passages. He could hear the same sound coming from behind him, telling him that his pursuer was hot on his tail. Kurt's chest was heaving and he was running out of stamina quickly.

Almost sliding on the stones, he turned directions abruptly and charged through the kitchens and outside, into the gardens beyond it. He had the benefit of being on his home turf and yet he still couldn't seem to lose the boy following his trail. "No fair!" He called without looking behind him. "They tailor these pants too tightly; I can't run!"

"No excuses!" Blaine called as he took the sharp turn behind Kurt, through the kitchens and outside. "If you give up…"

"No!" Kurt dodged into the hedge maze, set on winning this game of tag. There was no hope of Blaine ever finding him in there, soon enough he would give up. He ran through a few twists and turns and sure enough, the sound of the second set of feet died away.

Kurt slowed to a walk, feeling smug with himself. He'd _told_ Blaine that he would win the game; there was no way he could fail. He knew his own home too well. He even knew which turns to take in the hedge maze so that he wouldn't hit a dead end. Kurt had spent a lot of time outside. He'd quickly learned that there were some places in the castle that Sammy wasn't allowed in, and so he had changed his habits to prefer spending time outside than inside. He prided himself on knowing almost every inch of the grounds. For instance, he knew that near the center of the maze was a large fountain complete with benches for sitting. That was where he was headed.

As he had known he would, Kurt reached the center of the maze without hitting any dead ends. He would sit there for a little while and go back to the entrance when he was sure Blaine had given up. He walked over to the fountain and sat on the wide brim, crossing his legs under him as he faced the water.

The bottom was littered with coins of all types – silver and gold, big and little. People came from all over to throw a coin in Fons Fortunae and see if their wish came true. According to myth, Fortuna had bestowed the fountain to humans and whoever threw in a coin for her had their wish come true. Alternatively, if anyone took a coin from Fortune's Fountain, they'd be destined to sit in her disfavor and face bad luck from that point onward.

People told Kurt that those were myths for a reason. They said that there was no such entity as Fortuna, that Fons Fortunae was just a pretty garden decoration. They were a Christian nation, Kurt had been told, and they didn't cower before a myth. Nevertheless, people still came to throw coins in the fountain, and Kurt had never seen anyone take from it.

He was so lost in thought about the fountain that Kurt didn't heard soft footfalls behind him. In fact, he didn't realize that he wasn't alone until a weight tackled him from behind and tipped both of them into the water.

Kurt came up sputtering. "Blaine," he exclaimed, wiping water out of his eyes. When he opened them, he saw that the other boy was laughing. He was also soaking wet, his wild thicket of curls soaked and plastered to his forehead, obscuring his eyes.

"You're it," said Blaine pleasantly, doing a little happy dance from where he sat.

Kurt tried to remain scowling but he couldn't do it. Blaine's smile was just too infectious. It had been four days since he'd seen him at the archery lanes and they had hardly spent any time apart. The king would be assigning the prospective pages to their fiefdoms the next day, and all too quickly Blaine would be leaving him once again. He couldn't waste that time being grumpy with him.

"Fine, fine," he said, giving in and chuckling along with him. "You win _this_ time."

"Where _are_ we?" Blaine asked, finally looking around at where they sat.

"In a fountain," Kurt answered dryly. "You pushed us in, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Well, I know that." When he lifted his hand up from the water, there were several coins shimmering there. "It's so strange though…people just leave money here? Kurt, what are you _doing_?"

When Blaine's hand had broken the surface of the water and Kurt had seen what he had clutched there, he'd lunged at the boy to bat them out of his hand. He knew it was futile – the damage was done, if it was possible. Blaine had taken a coin from the fountain.

"Put them back, put them back!"

Blaine dropped them quickly. "Why? What's wrong with them?"

"It's bad luck to take coins from Fons Fortunae," Kurt said, his momentary panic fading. It was just a myth, he reminded himself. "Or…so some people say." Blaine looked slightly unsure of himself. "I shouldn't have freaked out…that probably isn't making you feel better."

"No," Blaine said with a small smile.

"You shouldn't worry," Kurt assured him, trying to assure himself as well. "Maybe one day we can throw a coin back in to make up for it."

"What does that do?" Blaine asked, shifting closer.

"Well, if it's all true, it means that your wish will get granted." Kurt smiled as Blaine nodded, his eyes wide as he listened. "This fountain was supposed to have been given to the Romans by Fortuna. That's why it's named Fons Fortunae – Fortune's Fountain."

Blaine was quiet for a moment, his amber eyes looking down at the sparking coins. Kurt wished that he would look up so that he could see those eyes firsthand, rather than in the reflection of the water. "Then I definitely want to come back here," he said finally. "Someday Kurt, we should promise to come back here and make a wish together." He looked up at Kurt then, smiling widely.

"What would we wish for?"

Blaine shrugged. "Not sure." He held up his hand, pinky sticking out. "But whatever it is, it better be good. One day. Promise?"

Kurt returned his smile and linked their pinkies together. "Promise," he answered.

The two boys scurried out of the water a few minutes later, feeling a slight chill set in. They exited the hedge maze in favor of the wider garden and reclined side by side on the grass.

They were silent for a little while, the light breeze quickly drying their hair and clothes. Blaine was the first to break the silence. "Kurt?"

"Hmm?" Kurt was on his stomach, picking flowers from a nearby arrangement and weaving them together to make a crown, as Daphne had once shown him.

"You remember when we met…and you said that next time I came I could meet your mom?"

Kurt froze. "…Yes."

"Well, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I never got to." Blaine turned his head away from the clouds he'd been watching and towards Kurt, who was carefully guarded. "And that you're really brave about what happened. I couldn't be that brave."

"I'm not _that_ brave," Kurt said quietly, fingers resuming their work again. "But thank you. I think you would have loved her – everyone did."

"If she was anything like you, I'm sure I would have too." Blaine said the comment offhand as he looked back up at the clouds, but Kurt looked over at him in surprise. Blaine loved him?

"So…where are you hoping to get assigned?" Kurt asked, changing the subject.

"I'm not sure," Blaine answered slowly. "I can't get assigned back home, so Westerville is out. Maybe I'll get somewhere close by. That way I can visit you!"

"Oh, I hope so!" Kurt said excitedly. "Maybe I can ask Uncle Paul."

"Unless Prince David gets there first," Blaine said with a tad of bitterness. "Then I'll probably get the farthest away possible."

"That's just the way he is," Kurt supplied with a shrug, not sure why he was defending his cousin. "He isn't like that all the time. I think he was just trying to show off for the other children."

"Probably. But I'm sure it won't be too far away! Now that I get to see you again, I don't think I want to spend time away. At least, not as long as last time."

"Me either," Kurt said, turning his head to grin at Blaine. He picked at a couple blades of grass before grinnig at Blaine wickedly. "Hey Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

As quickly as he could manage, Kurt's hand snaked out and he tapped it against Blaine's chest before rolling away onto his feet. "You're it!" He called out as he began to run.

"Hey, no fair!" Blaine said, laughing. He stumbled to his own feet and began to run. "I wasn't ready, this doesn't count!"

"No excuses!" Kurt called from ahead of him, using his own words against him. Smile threatening to take over his face entirely, Blaine picked up his pace and chased after the other boy.

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><p>Kurt was standing at the end of the line of nobles. He had to strain his head to see the young men that were getting assigned by the king. He'd been instructed to stay in his proper place, but when King Paul called for "Blaine Anderson of Westerville" to step forward, Kurt couldn't help but move out of line so he could hear what was going on.<p>

He waited with bated breath – he hadn't known that he was this nervous about Blaine's assignment – as his uncle asked Blaine the standard questions. Uncle Paul was always thorough with his assignments. He asked the questions to determine the character of the prospective knight so he'd know where they were best suited to train. Kurt could tell from Blaine's answers that he wouldn't be assigned to any bookkeeping knight; he would be somewhere with action.

After a moment of contemplation, the king deemed that Blaine was best suited for the fief Ashtabula. Kurt's heart sunk. He imagined that there was probably no fief farther away from Lima than Ashtabula was. Kurt knew why his uncle had picked there. It was a border fief, sitting on the country line next to their eastern neighbor. Border fiefs always got the most action in and out of wartime. It was perfect for Blaine.

But it was not perfect for Kurt. No one decided to take one day trips between Lima and Ashtabula; it wasn't a convenient distance to travel unless there was an expressed reason for it. In Kurt's eyes, Blaine was being taken away from him again.

It was just bad luck.

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><p>Not two days later, Kurt stood at the drawbridge of the castle. The new pages were leaving with their companies to head for wherever they had been assigned. For Blaine, that meant that he would be going all the way to Ashtabula.<p>

"When will we see each other again?" Kurt asked, trying not to look too downtrodden.

"I don't know." Unlike Kurt, Blaine didn't bother trying to disguise it. He sounded and looked miserable. "Maybe there will be a festival that the Lord of Ashtabula will want to come to? Or maybe the court will take to the road one summer?"

"Maybe," Kurt answered, skeptical. "I don't want you to go, Blaine." An icky feeling was working its way through his chest, making it feel tight and knotted up.

Blaine looked conflicted. "I want to go and train," he said slowly. "But…not more than I want to keep seeing you." He smiled ruefully, which Kurt attempted to reciprocate. "But, hey! Look on the bright side."

"All the sides look dark to me," Kurt said bitterly, crossing his arms.

"Even if I don't get to come back soon, we know that it won't be forever. I have to come back to be knighted, when I'm eighteen."

"But that's so far away," Kurt complained, looking up into Blaine's amber eyes.

"It's a long time," Blaine agreed. "But you'll know exactly when to expect me. We'll be all grown up, too. We'll be knights."

"What if we don't have anything to talk about when we're all grown up?"

"We will," Blaine promised, reaching out to take Kurt's hand. "I know it. I'll always have something to say to you."

Kurt observed the other boy for a few moments, his bright blue eyes trying not to blink. Suddenly, he moved quickly to throw his arms around Blaine. A moment later, Kurt felt Blaine's arms return the hug. "Well, we do have a promise we need to keep," Kurt said, his face pressed against Blaine's shoulder. "At Fons Fortunae."

"We will," said Blaine confidently. "Kurt? Will you…well, do you think you'll be here when I get back?"

"Right here," Kurt said, drawing away and pointing at the drawbridge under their feet. "I would say that I wouldn't move until you get back, but I have to eat and stuff…" They both chuckled.

"Master Anderson?" A member of Blaine's company had approached them. "We should leave soon if we're going to get very far today."

"Alright, I'm coming," Blaine said with a nod. "We'll be back together before you know it, Kurt. Just don't forget about me, alright?"

"I won't," Kurt promised. He stepped backward to make room for Blaine to hop on his pony. He didn't say anything else – he couldn't. He could feel that evil tightness in his chest moving up to his eyes and he didn't want to start doing anything embarrassing here in front of everyone.

Instead, he raised his hand in farewell, a gesture that Blaine returned. Kurt watched as Blaine rode away, eyes never leaving the retreating figure. He remained standing there on the bridge long after Blaine had disappeared from his sight. Seven years, he told himself. He had to wait seven years until he saw Blaine again. And, Kurt thought as one burning tear escaped and made its way down his alabaster cheek, he already missed him.

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><p><span>Double Fun Fact (WOOOOOO!):<span> **Fortuna was a Roman goddess of luck and fortune. In spite of this, she remained prominent even in Christianized Europe. Fons Fortunae, Latin for Fortune's Fountain, is something I made up though. I just took the myth of the wishing well, which has been around for thousands of years, and adapted it a little bit. Myth also says that if someone looks into a wishing well during a midsummer's day, they'll see the face of their spouse reflected there *AHEM*

**Ashtabula is a real city in Ohio, like Lima. I actually did some research and picked this place for a symbolic reason. This city was a very important point on the Underground Railroad, which as used to carry African-American slaves north to Canada before the Civil War. That's all I know for a fact, but it's nice to think that Ashtabula was a more tolerant town concerning people's freedom. I figured if that was true, it would be fitting to send our little Medieval Warbler somewhere that tolerated minorities ;)


	5. Chapter 5 :: The Wedding

_A/N: Greetings again ladies and gents! :D So...this thing always happens to me when I make a plan: characters want to talk more than I anticipated and chapters deviate from aforementioned plan. This was one of those times. It was supposed to entail the third meeting as well but that'll just be next chapter now instead. But that said, I sort of like to think of this as a canon(ish) representation of Glee if it was medieval, so this chapter needed to be told! And it provides crucial insight into some characters. That and I really just didn't have the nerve to cut Vivienne off - you just don't do that :3_

_Just for reference, I assume we all know about Anne Hathaway (potentially? officially?) playing Kurt's aunt in canon. I picture Queen Vivienne as Anne when I write; I just thought I'd share so you guys can get into the world a little more! :)_

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><p><em>Late Autumn, 627 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

"Don't push," Kurt whispered heatedly to the bodies pressed up against his sides. "Ow, you're stepping on my feet! I could put you in the stocks for that, you know…"

"Oh hush," said Mercedes, poking at his side. "I wouldn't have to push if you just move over a little. I can't hear anything."

"We shouldn't be hearing anything, that's the point," Sam spoke up, although he was pushed up against the door right next to the other two. "And you two are being too loud. They'll hear us and then we'll all be put in the stocks."

"You mean that I'll stand by and watch while you two get pelted with rotten fruit," Kurt said smugly, smirking at the other two.

Mercedes shook her head and Sam and Kurt shared a grin. They were crowded against the door to a small antechamber leading into a medium sized ladies' sitting room. But no ladies sat there now. Instead, there was a heated argument going on. The trio had been walking past when they heard raised voices. Recognizing the voices of his own family, Kurt quickly stopped and pressed his ear against the door. He had noticed that his father had been acting strangely for the better part of the year. Hopefully this would provide some enlightenment into the issue.

"Paul, you're being irrational." Kurt recognized his Aunt Vivienne's voice. "You know very well that you can't prevent this, not if you want to maintain popular support. I know you pride yourself on having the respect of the Alganian citizens. Do you want to risk that? Is it worth it?"

"It isn't up for discussion," replied King Paul. "It's never been done before for a reason. That isn't how this country works and it isn't how the _world_ works. Like should wed like and that's all there is to it. Like has always wed like before now and the country has turned out powerful and united."

"It's an old rule," Vivienne said quietly. "I think we should be rid of it. Times are changing, Paul, and we must change with them. We do not want to be left behind."

"This is one thing that cannot change," Kurt's uncle said strongly. "We cannot taint ourselves by accepting one of them into our fold."

"Paul." Kurt's father's voice was calm and collected. He sounded sure of himself. "When Vivienne got the news that she was arranged to marry you, I followed her to this country without a second thought. I had heard stories of your father – who hadn't heard those stories? He was a great man and I had no doubt that his son was a great man too – a great future king. I've seen what you can do. I've seen how you changed your father's expanding nation into a land of peace. I've seen how you won the allegiance of the areas your father conquered. I've seen the sort of people you keep in your court. Meeting Elizabeth and having Kurt were the best two things that have ever happened to me, and if I hadn't come here with Vivienne, I never would have experienced any of it."

"Burton, I never doubted your support of me."

"Hear me out, Paul," Kurt's father continued. Although he couldn't see him, Kurt could picture his father holding up his palm in a gesture of goodwill. "After all these years, I believed that I could count you as my friend." Burton paused. "But if you don't allow me this, I will leave court in favor of somewhere we can live legally."

"Burton…" Vivienne sounded distressed, as if she hadn't heard her brother say that before.

"Vivienne, it's alright." Burton took a deep breath. "If you don't allow this Paul, I'll leave. I will offer Kurt the option to stay here or come with me. I won't take him away if he doesn't want to come; he deserves every opportunity that the court presents him with."

Kurt felt someone rest a hand on his arm. He didn't look to see if it was Mercedes or Sam, he was too wrapped up in his father's words. He was going to leave? But what were they talking about? What was his uncle not allowing that his aunt and father wanted?

"You're being hasty, Burton," Paul said. "You can't make a rash decision, you aren't thinking clearly. You will not leave court for the sake of a citizen, I won't allow it."

"I'm sorry," Burton's voice held a tone of finality. "You're jaded, Paul. I hate to say it but it's true. I love her."

"You've lost your senses! She's a merchant, Burton. You're not only a nobleman, you sit close to the crown and since my parents were not blessed with more than one child, your son sits in line for the throne if David's future wife doesn't produce any sons of her own. You aren't considering the motivations that this woman might have, you're blinded by what you call love and you cannot see beyond that."

"Power is more blind than love," Vivienne said softly. "I stand by my brother. Consider this, Paul. Don't make a decision yet. Consider what it could mean for the nation if one of the noblesse d'épée marries into another tier of society. The people mean something Paul, I beseech you to remember that. It isn't as if she is some street rat. Her family has plenty of money of their own and they rank high on the mercantile scale. Change isn't bad, my husband."

Kurt's ear was still pressed to the door when it opened inward abruptly, leaving the eavesdropping three to almost tumble inside. Vivienne's face was one of shock, not anger. A moment later her brother appeared at her side. He shook his head disapprovingly at Kurt.

Paul brushed out of the door past the small group. He didn't acknowledge or make eye contact with any of them. After he'd past out of sight, Mercedes nudged Sam's arm and they began to retreat with heads bowed.

"Not so fast," Vivienne's voice was as authoritative as it had been when she was speaking to her husband, but when the teens looked into her eyes they found that her gaze was soft. "I have something to say."

"Eavesdropping at doors should never be done again," Burton said, looking pointedly at all three. "Kurt, you could have gotten your friends in a lot of trouble."

"I – I didn't think…" Kurt hung his head, looking properly abashed although inside he was only a little bit sorry. He knew that none of the people who were in that room would have done anything to either Mercedes or Sam. The fact that his father had called them his friends was proof enough of that.

"How much did you hear?" Vivienne asked calmly, surveying all three.

"A fair bit," Kurt said slowly, looking at his father. "I believe I can surmise what spurred your debate."

"To clear up any confusion," Burton explained. "I met a woman at the market in the Upper Ivory District, and I now wish to seek her hand in marriage."

"The Ivory District?" Sam said hesitantly. "But…that means that she's –"

"A merchant," Burton finished Sam's sentence and smiled. "Yes. That is the fact that King Paul has been lamenting."

Kurt didn't know what to say. He was pleased, more pleased than he would have thought. His father was a kind, just man and he had been alone too long. He deserved happiness just as much as the next person, if not more. "How can he not allow it?" Kurt asked, finding that the injury to his father felt almost akin to injury unto himself. "Does it really matter all that much?"

"I'm glad you seem to think that it doesn't," his aunt said, laying a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "But I'm afraid the life we've allowed you to lead here doesn't reflect that of the real world." She smiled apologetically at Mercedes and Sam. "Times are slow to change. Too slow."

"The decision rests with Paul now," Burton said. "But if he says no, I mean to keep my word. I'm sure you heard it. I will leave with Carole if he declines permission. Kurt, your choice of action is nothing but your own. You needn't decide now. Don't assume the worst unless it comes."

"But it isn't fair!" Kurt insisted.

"Kurt, enough," Vivienne spoke with more force. "I do not think either your father or I have made it a secret that we agree with you. Love does not know boundaries; love doesn't cater to societal structures. Love is love. It is simple in theory, I only wish it were that simple in practice." She looked over all three teens. "Perhaps things will change with the future, if you are any indication. One can only hope." She smiled again, the act sadder than the previous. "Now, I must go. Consider this a warning that not everyone takes as kindly to spies as I do." She walked off down the hall in the direction her hisband went.

"Carole has a son your age." Kurt's father spoke, drawing his attention. "Even if you decide to stay here, I'd like for you to meet both of them before we leave, if it comes to that." Burton nodded, and Mercedes and Sam curtsied and bowed respectively as he departed, following his younger sister.

Silence rang for a few moments. "I told you that we shouldn't be hearing any of that," Sam said ruefully.

"No, I'm glad we did," Kurt responded quickly. He smiled at his friends. "I needed to know those things, and I think we all gained a bit of insight into the order of things as they stand and as they're hoped for."

"Queen Vivienne is too kind," Mercedes said with a shake of her head. "She spoke as if she really believes all those things, as if commoners are important. She spoke as if she really believes that love knows no boundaries."

"She does believe it," Kurt said assuredly. "And so does my father. Why else do you think our continuing friendship has been permitted?"

"I saw the way the Queen took my mother as one of her handmaidens when Lady Elizabeth passed on, may she rest in peace," Sam said. "Kurt's right. She's an amazing asset to the monarchy. You're lucky in your family," he added, grinning at Kurt.

"Well, it makes up for my ill-advised choice in friends," Kurt joked, feigning dramatics. "Look, I've said it a million times that if you don't pause every third step and dance like a jester, I'll be forced to turn you in for disobeying my wishes. Yet you still insist on resisting me."

Mercedes chuckled and Sam surged forward to ruffle Kurt's hair, causing the teenaged prince to squeal in protest and wiggle out of his friend's grasp as they continued on down the hall.

The next day, King Paul gave official permission for his wife's brother, Duke Burton, to marry Carole Hudson of the Upper Ivory District. The wedding was set for that winter.

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><p><em>Winter, 627 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

Kurt did not find it difficult to get along with Carole's son, Finn. In fact, he found that he immediately grew fond of both Carole and her son. He introduced Finn not only to Sam and Mercedes, who received him warmly, but also the young court of royals, who were more hesitant to accept him into their fold, especially Dave.

Slowly but surely, Finn's goofy charm began to win them over. He would, after all, be moving into the castle after his mother wed Duke Burton. He would be considered noble by marriage and the teens in the court would be his new peers. They were now in their seventeenth and eighteenth years, and the following spring would bring the boys, who had by now become men, back to court to be knighted.

As that time grew nearer, not a day went by that Kurt did not think of Blaine. What would the other boy look like? Would he be the same or would he have transformed into another person in the almost seven years they'd been apart? The court at Ashtabula had never visited the capital, and all Kurt had heard by way of ear were rumors.

_The young page to the Lord of Ashtabula is excelling in his swordsmanship._

_ The young page has been more valuable to the fief of Ashtabula than one would have thought._

_ The squire of Ashtabula hasn't lost a dueling tournament._

_The squire of Ashtabula saved his Lord Knight's life during a border raid._

_ The squire of Ashtabula is the best to have been seen in the north for many dozens of years._

_ The squire of Ashtabula is destined for greatness._

Every snippet of news both warmed Kurt's heart and made him increasingly nervous for the time he would see Blaine again. This wasn't the boy he had parted with. This was a warrior.

Yes, Kurt Hummel's thoughts dwelt on Blaine Anderson often. He was shocked from his mental wanderings by a female voice calling his name. Kurt looked up and smiled at Carole, who had spoken to him. "I'm sorry; I don't know where my mind went. Pardon?"

"I asked what you thought of the bodice. It's just been finished." She motioned to the torso area of the wedding dress she had on. Kurt was surprised when she had asked his opinion on her wedding gown, although he supposed that he shouldn't have been. It had been well established for many years now that Kurt was the one who set the fashions in the capital, and thus the entire nation. All eyes were always trained to his self-styling.

"Pearls - and I think they looks wonderful," he said honestly. "Everyone knows that Daphne is the best seamstress in Lima, maybe all of Algania." He grinned at Sam's mother, who was still adjusting hems on the dress Carole wore. The wedding was in a few short days and the final pieces were still coming together. "You couldn't have been in safer hands."

"So I see now," Carole said, smiling at Daphne, who ducked her head graciously. "I've never been dressed by anyone half as brilliant; I'm in awe of you, Daphne."

"You're too kind," Daphne said, a blush creeping onto her pale face. "I'm pleased to have the chance." Kurt smiled at Daphne fondly as she and Carole giggled together over the dress.

"Finn, what do you think?"

"Huh?" He looked up at his mother upon her question. "Oh…yeah, it's very…sparkly."

Carole shook her head indulgently and turned back to Daphne, who presented more stimulating conversation than her son. Kurt, however, didn't return his attention to the dress, lovely as it was.

"Not excited about the wedding?" He asked Finn, moving to a chair that was closer to the extremely tall boy.

"Oh no, I'm thrilled," he told Kurt. His eyes traveled up to look at his mom as she laughed with Daphne. "I mean, just look at my mom. She hasn't been this happy in…hell, I don't remember her ever being this happy. I don't remember what she was like with my father."

"How did he die?" Kurt asked the question quietly.

"Foot soldiers never live very long," Finn said with a rueful smile. "It's alright. I never really knew him, so I can only miss his memory." He shot an apologetic look at Kurt that seemed to say, _not like you and your mother._ "So I guess this wedding is probably the best thing that's ever happened. I still can't believe it's possible."

Kurt smiled ruefully. "Well then, it's a good thing for both of us," he said, attempting a bright tone. "My mom died before her and my dad had could have any other children. I've always wanted a brother."

Finn grinned at him gratefully. "That means a lot," he said sincerely. "Truly. To be honest, I was a quite nervous the first time I met you. You're a prince after all, and I'm just…well, I didn't know what to expect."

"I could tell," Kurt said, breaking into genuine laughter. "I couldn't understand anything you were saying. But I guess I'm somewhat of an anomaly. You shouldn't have been nervous."

"What I really have to worry about is the new set of knights coming in this year," Finn continued nervously. "I've never really –"

His words were cut off by the sound of the door being thrown open. A dark haired girl scurried in, hands full of fabric and trimmings. "Sorry I'm late!" She practically shouted, running to Carole's side.

Kurt turned to roll his eyes at Finn, who merely blushed and looked away, much to Kurt's surprise.

"Rachel!" Carole exclaimed as the girl ran toward her. "Calm down, it isn't that much of a hurry."

"But we still have to do the bottom stitching on your dress, not to mention hem your veil and attach the trimming to that..." She continued to chatter on and Kurt stared at her with his mouth slightly agape. He had never seen someone babble that much in one sitting. He'd never met Rachel before but he knew that upon the announcement of the engagement, Vivienne had assigned her to Carole as one of her new handmaidens.

"Rachel," Daphne said softly, laying a hand on the girl's arm. Only then did she cease to talk. "We'll get everything done in time. You needn't worry. It looks like the comb to affix the veil is missing from these things though. Would you go get it so we could take it through a trial run before the wedding day?"

With a rapid nod and a flurry of speech, she exited again, leaving Daphne to chuckle in her wake. "Maybe I should have told her that it isn't a crime for a servant to walk places instead of run."

Kurt was also chuckling. He turned to Finn to share in the moment. "That was strange!" he exclaimed. Finn didn't laugh but his cheeks increased their hue. "Are you…Finn?" A knowing smile spread across Kurt's face. "You don't _like_ her do you?"

"No," Finn said too quickly. "I…er, okay…maybe…a little bit."

"Oh, but this is great!" Kurt exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "You can ask her to the wedding!"

"Servants are allowed to the wedding?" Finn asked, sullen.

Kurt hesitated. "Well…I'm not sure. But you should speak with Aunt Vivienne. She likes you, you know!"

"Oh I could never ask the Queen anything like that," Finn said, shaking his head. "She's too kind already."

Kurt's brow furrowed momentarily. Why were people always saying things like that? "You should do whatever you think is best," he said with assurance.

"Who are you going to ask to accompany you to the wedding then?" Finn asked, looking up at his future step-brother.

For a moment, a dark disarray of curls danced across Kurt's mind. Hastily and with momentary panic, he shook the brief thought away. Why had he thought of him? Why had his mind even _gone_ there? "Brittany," Kurt said quickly. "I actually asked her several days ago, she seemed quite excited." He chuckled at the memory. "I did it in front of everyone, and Dave was so miffed that I'd gotten someone to be my date before he did that he asked Santana right then and there."

"That's…petty," Finn said with a hesitant chuckle.

"You're telling me," Kurt agreed, glad that he and his future step-brother had formed a bond so quickly.

"Who is that other one that always accompanies Brittany and Santana?" Finn asked cautiously. "The blonde one?"

"Quinn," Kurt replied. "Why? Will you ask her instead?"

"She's gorgeous," Finn said with a slightly goofy grin. Kurt nodded encouragingly, though he'd found that Quinn didn't hold any particular appeal to him. Neither did Brittany for that matter, but she was entertaining to spend time with. "Do you think…I mean, do you think she would ever say yes to someone like me?"

"You mean another noble?" Kurt asked, laying a hand on Finn's shoulder. He and his mother would be considered as such, after all. "You're one of us, Finn. From now on, don't think anything otherwise. I'm sure she would have no reason to say no."

"Then I think I will," said Finn with a nod. "Who knows? Maybe something will come of it."

"Maybe," Kurt agreed with a grin.

* * *

><p>"Are you going to ask me to dance?" Brittany laid a hand on Kurt's arm. "All we've done is sit."<p>

Kurt looked up at her, shocked out of his reverie; it was only a few short months until the knights came back to court and he'd been wondering exactly what he was going to wear for the day they were scheduled to arrive. He quickly surveyed the ballroom to see that most other couples were, in fact, dancing. The wedding had taken place earlier that day and the festivities would extend far into the night.

Finn was twirling Quinn around not too far off, and Kurt thought he saw genuine enjoyment on her face. That was good, he thought. He was glad that his step-brother's endeavors had succeeded. Carole and his father sat by the king and queen. Carole was beautiful in her wedding dress and Kurt thought his father looked quite dashing in his official uniform.

"Sorry," Kurt apologized, setting down the wine cup that he'd been sipping absently. He stood and smiled at Brittany before bowing slightly and offering his hand. "May I have this dance, Lady Brittany?"

"I'm not sure, I'm kind of tired," she said pensively, looking away from him.

Kurt couldn't hide the wide grin that slid across his face. "Brit," he said in warning.

"Oh, come on!" She exclaimed, grabbing his hand and bouncing onto the dance floor in a way that defied all decorum. Kurt was momentarily shocked but he recovered quickly, catching her in his arms and falling into step.

He looked down at her blonde head hesitantly as she rested it against his chest. It was hardly proper but as he looked around he saw that there were more than a few people that had grown closer together than propriety allowed. There had been wine at the wedding, more wine at the feast, and yet _more_ wine at the festivities, and even though it had been diluted, it was undoubtedly affecting people's senses. He saw that his uncle laughed a little too raucously and his aunt didn't even notice that her dress was currently showing her bare ankles. Finn's hand had slid slightly lower on Quinn's waist, though she didn't hesitate in repeatedly moving it to its correct position. Dave and Santana had mysteriously vanished over half an hour ago to a place that Kurt could only guess at.

Kurt wasn't sure how long he had twirled around with Brittany, or how many breaks they'd taken and wineglasses they'd gone through when he felt her lead him out of the ballroom and down the hall. She stopped him in a dark enclave and laid her hands on his chest, backing him up against the wall.

"Do you want to kiss me, Kurt?" She asked, her voice breathy. She'd moved closer to him and Kurt felt her arm slide around his neck so her fingers could tangle themselves in the hair at the base of his neck.

"Do I _what?_ Oh! Er, well…I suppose." He stuttered out his reply awkwardly. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He didn't really feel any burning desire to kiss Brittany. But then again, perhaps that was because he had never kissed anyone before. He wasn't even sure what a romantic kiss entailed. People in court kissed one another often in greeting and farewell but Kurt knew that was quite different from what went on behind closed doors.

Several years ago, his father had begun an awkward conversation about what to do come the time that you began to get interested in women. Kurt had promptly begun to squirm uncomfortably and claim that he had heard someone in the corridor call his name. That conversation had never been finished. He'd also tried to imagine what real kissing might be like once by practicing with the crook of his elbow, but that hadn't been all that enlightening. The whole time he'd been paranoid that someone would walk in and see him, and the entire scenario had been uncomfortable and unexciting.

"I've…well, I've never really kissed anyone before," he admitted to Brittany quietly. He could feel his cheeks burning with shame.

"That's okay," she responded, equally as quiet. "It's not hard. You like me, right? I mean, you asked me to the wedding."

"I…yeah, Brit, I like you," Kurt said, feeling more uncomfortably by the second. He did like Brittany. He thought she was wonderful, and he liked her a lot. But he'd seen the way Finn had blushed and turned bashful when Rachel came into the room that day they had been with Carole as she tried on her dress. He'd never had that reaction around anyone. He didn't even know what it felt like to really like someone. He had never worried about it before now, but Brittany's mention of it made him think that there might be something wrong with him for never having done any of those things before.

"Then just kiss me," she instructed, smiling at him brightly.

Kurt wasn't even sure where to begin. Did he just do it? What was he supposed to do with his hands? Awkwardly, he leaned down and pressed their lips together for a moment. He pulled back a moment later, disappointed. It hadn't been what he was expecting. He'd thought that maybe things would click together in his head. He had thought that suddenly, everything he had been missing would rush into him all in one moment. But nothing had happened at all – it wasn't even a little bit wet.

He cleared his throat slightly and his gaze flicked away. "Your lips taste like wine," he noted. "It's weird."

"Well you aren't supposed to do it like that," she said with a chuckle. She reached up and put her other hand at the side of Kurt's face. "Like this." She drew him downward until their lips met again. This time, it was _very_ different. Kurt could feel her lips moving across his, kissing first his bottom lip, moving to the top, and then to the bottom again. He could feel her opening her mouth into his, drawing their bodies closer together.

He wasn't feeling particular fizzy – he remembered Dave bragging that the first time he'd kissed Santana, she had said she felt all fizzy inside – but he didn't feel the need to draw away from her. Above all else, he just felt indifferent, like he would be just as happy if she kept kissing him as if she stopped right then. Kurt tried to mimic Brittany's actions, to a degree. He put a hand on her waist and the other at the side of her face to draw her closer, as she'd done to him.

He wasn't sure how long had passed before she pulled back. He'd lost track of time, for he quickly found that it wasn't too difficult to keep up the kissing even when his mind wandered. He wondered exactly what Dave and Santana were off doing. Was it what he was doing now? Was it different for them? If it wasn't, he wasn't sure why they'd gone off in the first place. The dance had almost seemed like more fun. He wondered exactly how many days were left until spring came. The winter solstice was only two days away, so there was almost an entire season separating that moment from when the knights returned. He wondered how many of the other nobles would make it back to be knighted. They'd all looked strong and able-bodied; Kurt wouldn't be surprised if they all did.

Brittany drew away from him and rested her head against Kurt's chest. "That was nice," she said pleasantly.

"Sure," he said slowly. It was a bit of a relief to have gotten the whole ordeal out of the way; he didn't have to anticipate it any more. It certainly hadn't been horrible either; it might have even been a little bit fun. But he couldn't help but lament the fact that he hadn't gotten tingly, as Dave said you were supposed to get. He wanted to know what it was like to feel tingly, he wanted to want to kiss her again rather than go back to the ballroom to dance and have another glass of wine. He wanted to feel something rather than the nothing he was currently submerged in.

Were people supposed to have found someone to feel tingly with by his age? He wasn't sure. He knew that when his father and Aunt Vivienne had moved to Algania, she had only been eighteen, the same age as Kurt's mother. His father had been twenty and he married Elizabeth a year after they'd met when he arrived at court. Kurt had already turned eighteen; he wanted to know when he was going to get that tingly feeling.

Maybe there was something wrong with him, he thought as he looked down at Brittany's shining blonde hair. Or maybe, he told himself, maybe it just took time.

* * *

><p><span>Fun fact<span>: Vivienne mentions noblesse d'épée. In english, it means nobles of the sword, which is an old noble of blue blood - she uses French because it's a term for the French nobility and I picture her and Burt coming from a place like France. This contrasts nobility of the robe, which are newer nobles made such by wealth and prosperity, not birth. I kind of picture Carole and Finn's position in society to be a antecedent to the nobility of the robe - that type of nobility was in no way present in the Early Middle Ages though, hence Burt calling them merchants - it would only come around in the Late Middle Ages and Early Modern Era.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Blainers is coming back next chapter guys, don't worry! _

_So, I told myself I'd never do this because I usually find it petty, but I haven't gotten a ton of feedback for this story. It seems positive but I'd be thrilled if you guys would just leave a little word of what you think, just so I know! Sorry if asking annoys you, I can only agree if it does and say sorry in advance. Thanks for reading! :3_


	6. Chapter 6 :: The Third Meeting

_A/N: Zoinks, so it looks like all I had to do was ask *blushes* I feel a little foolish, not going to lie, but thanks bunches to everyone who was kind enough to review last chapter *hugs you all* And finally in this chapter we get more Blaine, yay!_

_Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Late Spring, 628 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

"Kurt? _Kurt!_" A voice drifted in and out of focus, and slowly Kurt came to realize that it was calling his name. "Are you awake?"

"No," he growled, grabbing a fistful of his pillow fabric and pulling it over his head. "Go away."

"I would," continued the voice, "but I'm under express orders from Lady Carole that I shouldn't leave until I was sure you were up and about. She says you're late."

"For what?" The end of his sentence trailed off as he realized what he was late for. "_Shit_." He stumbled out of his bed, momentarily hopping on one foot when his ankle got twisted in the sheets. He looked up at the person who had spoken to see that it was Rachel, the handmaiden that Finn was apparently enamored with, although he hadn't left Quinn's side since the wedding. "They aren't here are they?"

"No, no one has come yet," Rachel responded quickly, shaking her head. "But the royal family has already assembled in anticipation of their arrival."

"They obviously won't be coming all at once," Kurt grumbled, racing back and forth across his room, grabbing various items. "So why _bother_?"

"It's protocol?" She offered.

"That's insightful of you," he said shortly, grabbing an ivory comb. He looked in her direction to see her head lower as she began to walk away. "Rachel," he called, making her turn toward him once more. "I didn't mean to be short with you. I'm simply frustrated with myself. I have an image to uphold, I shouldn't have overslept."

She gave Kurt a small smile. "You don't have anything to be anxious about," she said, though Kurt had never mentioned the word. "Everyone who meets you loves you; you can do no wrong."

"Well, I'm not sure about that," Kurt responded with a chuckle. "So even Finn is there, then? Good Lord, this really is a travesty if he's up and about before me."

"He is." Something in Rachel's voice made Kurt look up at her, only to see that there was a faint color in her cheeks and a distant look in her eyes.

Slowly, he arched a questioning eyebrow. He silently noted her reaction and filed it away for future reference. Instead of mentioning it, Kurt merely cleared his throat conspicuously, shocking her back to reality. "Yes, well…that'll be all. You can tell Carole and my father that I'm awake and I shall be there shortly." She nodded once and retreated from the room.

Banishing other people's problems from his mind, Kurt grabbed two different shirts and approached his mirror. The problem with thinking about this day so far in advance was that he'd had time to plan exactly twelve beautiful outfits, and now he had to decide on which one he would actually wear. He contemplated his reflection in the mirror, grimacing when he saw his disarrayed hair and the faint purple circles under his eyes, made more conspicuous by his pale skin. He hadn't been sleeping well the past few nights, which he guessed to be the reason he overslept today. It was ironic, considering that this was the very cause of his unrest. Blaine was supposed to come back to court today, so he could be knighted later that week with the rest of the successful squires.

Kurt hadn't seen the other young noble for seven years. He knew that he himself had certainly grown and changed in that time. He looked different: he'd grown a lot, especially in the last couple years, and his chest and shoulders had broadened a bit. He didn't speak all that differently, a fact that Dave was quick to tease him about, as the other boy had grown rather deep-throated. He certainly dressed differently though, Kurt thought as he decided on a shirt and slipped on the royal red of the court at Lima. As a prince who was in line for the throne, he was also mandated to wear a thin gold coronet around his head, signifying his station. Most of the time, he left it off. When he was with Sam or Mercedes, as he often was when they weren't attending to their duties, he despised wearing something that signified the gaping difference in their social classes.

He made his way to the water basin and splashed its contents over his face several times, careful not to let any of it touch his expensive garb. After that was done, he dipped the ivory comb into the water and carefully combed back his hair into its usual flawless state. Usually his morning routine was at least three times as long but he was pressed for time at the moment. Kurt quickly laced up his boots and walked from the room, positioning the thin coronet on his head as he made his way through the halls.

"Late. Always late," Dave hissed at him as Kurt approached his side. "Some things never change, and some _people_ never change."

"I overslept," Kurt replied quietly, nodding to Finn, who stood at his other side. "Let us not start fighting so early; we have the whole day to wait here next to each other."

"And it is unfortunate indeed." Kurt rolled his eyes at his cousin's response but didn't grace him with a retort. He didn't enjoy fighting with Dave, but his cousin certainly seemed to relish fighting with him for some reason. But today they would have to keep themselves at almost constant attention in the entrance hall. It was an unfortunate detail in the protocol of the royal family, but Kurt was used to it – they greeted the incoming knights the same way each year.

The rest of the court did not have to make themselves present. At about noon, Kurt started fidgeting and wishing that he could trade places with one of them. He would give anything to stretch his arms with just a few minutes of archery practice. They'd seen several sets of knights come, be greeted, then sent to see their new rooms with instructions to do as they wished before the feast they were to have in honor of the arrivals that night. Among those who had come were the majority of the knights that had first accompanied Blaine when Kurt had seen him at the archery strips. Yet still no Blaine.

Kurt tried not to look too eager every time he saw a procession approaching. If he had changed so much in the last seven years, he wondered how much Blaine had changed. As he often had over the time they'd been separated, he wondered what exactly Blaine looked like. He wondered what they would _do._ It was certainly no longer appropriate to play tag in the halls, or run from the guards.

Slowly Kurt's attention shifted from reality to fantasy, and the minutes and hours when he pondered about what would happen when his friend returned passed more quickly than when he had been staring blankly across the room at the intricate paintings on the wall. Kurt let his mind wander where it felt inclined to go.

He was wondering if time somehow made amber eyes less brilliant when Kurt felt a sharp poke dig into his side. "Ow! _What_?" He hissed quietly at Dave, who was drawing his hand back to himself.

"Looks like you and your little friend have something in common," Dave whispered, keeping his voice low. Kurt's head turned sharply and he did indeed see that a new procession had come into the hall. In fact, they had already reached the king. A quick glance outside showed him that the light of the day had begun to fade. Briefly, he wondered how time had passed that quickly without him realizing it, but a rumbling noise from his stomach in the next moment convinced him that it was no trick of the light; it had gotten late without him realizing.

But he looked away from the sky quickly, to the people who were speaking to the king. "You're both always horribly late," Dave continued as Kurt's eyes quickly searched out the face he was looking for. If Dave had mentioned Blaine, he had to be among the group somewhere. "The last ones to arrive, in fact."

"Everyone is here?" Kurt asked absently, leaning onto the balls of his feet. His eyes caught the back of a green tunic – the forest green of the Ashtabula fief – as they were led down the opposite hall. He sunk back onto his feet in disappointment. His first chance to see Blaine again and he'd missed it by daydreaming about his first chance to see Blaine again. It was a cruel, unlucky twist of irony.

"Here and seen to their chambers," Dave responded, breaking the line as their family began to disperse. "Dinner is upon the hour, and _don't_ be late."

Kurt shook his head and watched him go. "You know one of the knights?" Finn spoke from Kurt's side, though he hadn't been aware that he'd been standing there still.

"Uh…no," Kurt said quickly. "I mean yes! Yes I do…sort of. We were friends as children in the court….acquaintances…no, definitely friends…I – uh, yeah I know him." He knew them all, really, though none as well as Blaine. Now he had made a complete dunce out of himself by babbling like an idiot at Finn, who was surveying him warily. Why had he acted like such a stuttering fool anyways? "I – uh, I'll see you at dinner, Finn." Berating his own lack of composure, Kurt walked quickly away from his new brother.

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't have a chance to seek out Blaine before the feast, and in all honesty he was too nervous to take the action. He had such a fond past with him – Kurt had never felt such a strong, immediate friendship with anybody before, even Sam – and he didn't want anything that might happen in the present to negatively affect his memories of their past.<p>

He had to continually tell himself that he was making too big of a deal out of the situation. He'd built it up so much in his mind that it was no wonder he was getting more anxious by the second. He just needed to take a deep breath and relax. He had to remind himself that he was being absolutely, embarrassingly _ridiculous_.

The young prince marched to the banquet hall with a fierce resolution to stop being so silly. Nevertheless, he paused outside the thick doors and took time to make sure his hair was in order and to replace his coronet neatly on top of his head.

He entered the room to extreme hustle and bustle. "What the…" he began, his sentence trailing off as he looked around. There were many long tables present that were not there usually and, of course, the perpendicular one at the far end of the room that was meant for the royal family. The crowd was astounding; Kurt knew that the feast was for the entire royal court but he'd underestimated how many people that would be with the new additions.

"Kurt," a familiar voice called to him and Kurt spun to meet Mercedes gratefully. She was carrying several platters; her mother was the head chef in the court and Mercedes seemed to have taken up her affinity for the art.

"What is going on here?" He asked, looking around at everyone that was assembled. Almost no one was sitting; they were all visiting others and socializing. When the king and queen entered, they would all sit for the meal. "I'll never find anybody in this crowd."

"Who are you looking for?" She questioned as Kurt followed her to the nearest table and she set down the platters in their assigned spots.

"No one," Kurt answered, shaking his head and trying not to look disappointed _again_. "I just meant that I wouldn't be able to locate anyone at all if I was, there are so many people."

"Speaking of all the people," she said, brushing her hands on her apron. "I'd better get back to work."

"Oh, I'll come and help," he said quickly, making to follow her.

"Kurt," Mercedes said with a laugh, taking his shoulders and turning him toward the head table. "You'll do nothing of the kind. You'll sit where you're supposed to and look pretty; that's your job. I swear, sometimes you forget who you are."

"All the time," he told her, grinning at her one last time before she disappeared in the crowd of people. He sighed as her figure vanished from sight, and began to walk to the head table.

Kurt took his usual seat and set himself to scanning the vast hall. There were over a dozen long tables set up. The very edge tables were so far away that he couldn't identify the people who stood there. Trying to keep from giving himself over to frustration, Kurt stood as his aunt and uncle entered. People quieted immediately and bowed or curtseyed as they passed on their way to the table Kurt sat at. He returned his aunt's kind smile as she passed him, and sat a moment after they did.

He was hardly listening as his uncle said something about "honoring those who would pledge themselves to serve our great nation". He was still surveying the crowd with determination, but it was futile. There were altogether too many people there, he couldn't even locate the people he saw every day let alone one that he hadn't seen for seven years. He would just have to wait patiently, he told himself as he clapped to his uncle's brief speech. Or rather, not so patiently.

* * *

><p>Kurt did a lot of thinking as he pushed his food around his plate, for he was hardly in the mood for eating even though he'd hardly had anything all day, his earlier hunger having disappeared; the dinner that had been prepared would have otherwise been delicious. As the feast wrapped up, he realized that there was only one place that he could go. The women would likely retire to one of their many sitting rooms to gossip about the new arrivals, and the men would do the same thing under the guise of drinking and otherwise making merry. It was a wild hope really, but Kurt hoped that Blaine – wherever he was – might have the same idea as him.<p>

He dismissed himself from his family, kissing his aunt's cheek and telling his father that he'd been feeling off all day – an excuse that could double as the reason he'd slept late – and that all he needed was a bit of proper rest and he would be right as rain come the morning. He walked briskly from the banquet hall, ignoring both Finn's concerned and Dave's annoyed glances.

Free of the crowded room, Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't mind being the center of attention, in fact overall he quite enjoyed it, but there were times when he would rather be rid if it – now, for example. He made his way through the castle's winding ground floor and exited through the entrance hall doors. This put him at the main drawbridge of the castle. During the day, the bridge would be lowered and there would have been guards standing watch and inspecting anyone who requested admission into the castle. But now, well into the hours of the night, there was no one. The bridge was drawn up, leaving the wide moat impassable.

He wandered over to the side of the raised bridge and peered into the water below. In it he could see the clear spring night reflected. The moon wasn't near full but it was large enough to light up the darkness. Absently, Kurt turned to look at the drawbridge. He ran his hand up its wooden side gently, to avoid splinters. He'd stood in that spot almost seven years ago and promised that he would be standing right there when Blaine returned.

Of course, he hadn't known as much about ceremony and protocol then, when he'd been only eleven. He hadn't realized that he couldn't actually wait on the drawbridge for Blaine to meet him when he returned. Now he didn't even know where the other boy – the other man, really – was. For all he knew, he could have been offended that Kurt hadn't actually been there for him when he returned. Or a more terrifying prospect: that he had grown up and couldn't care less.

Kurt sighed and turned away from the bridge and back to the water. He was a fool for leaving the feast and coming to the drawbridge in pursuit of some fantastic imagining that a boy he hadn't seen in seven years would have the same farfetched, silly idea. He was torn between wanting to return to his chambers so he didn't sit there like a fool and wanting to plop himself down stubbornly and refuse to return to the castle with his tail between his legs. In the end, the latter desire won. It was a nice night out; the spring air was refreshing and not too cold. He wouldn't mind spending a bit of time outside after standing in the entrance hall for the better part of the day.

He sat in a nook on the edge of the stone wall so that he was able to look over the ledge into the moat should he desire. Instead, he leaned against a raised part of the wall and looked up into the sky. In a memory so fuzzy that he could hardly remember it, he recalled sitting with his mother outside in the warm summer months while she showed him the constellations that passed over their country in that season at night. He could see some of them, though they were in slightly different positions, it being earlier in the year.

As he thought about his mother, Kurt began to hum softly under his breath. His head leaned back on the wall to afford him a view of the sky, but now Kurt gently closed his eyes.

"_Hello!_"

Kurt's eyes snapped open immediately. The voice was deeper. The word was whispered and in all honesty phrased more as a question, but Kurt recognized it instantly. He hurriedly scrambled off of the open nook he'd been perched in and onto his feet. His heart had started pounding fiercely in his chest.

Before his eyes, in a scene he had imagined more times than he cared to admit, Blaine came around the corner and Kurt was presented with him face to face. He opened his mouth as if to speak but to his intense shock and embarrassment, no sound at all came out. He merely stood there staring, gaping, and internally barraging his brain for not making his limbs or vocal chords take any sort of action.

Blaine looked different in almost every way and yet he was still strangely the same. He'd cut what had previously been a wild thatch of unruly ebony so that it sat closer to his head than his earlobes, and yet despite the length it still curled in the same way and Kurt still had to fight to urge to reach out his hand and ruffle it up. The angles of his jaw had grown more masculine, and yet even in the darkness Kurt could see that the same brilliant amber color glinted from his large, deep-set eyes. He hadn't grown quite as much as Kurt had – he sat a couple inches shorter – but he'd grown broader and stronger from being a knight; even in the dark and through his forest green tunic, Kurt could see how the material stretched across his broad chest and wide shoulders.

After a moment of silence, a wide grin spread across Blaine's face, an infectious smile that had Kurt's lips stretching into one of their own. "I hope you did actually sleep some nights, and that you didn't spend them all out here by the drawbridge," Blaine teased, still grinning at Kurt.

"Well I said that I'd leave to eat, I didn't promise leaving to get sleep," Kurt responded, beginning to chuckle. After a moment, Blaine's laughs joined his own and Kurt moved forward to embrace his friend. A strange, pleased flutter kicked up some butterflies in his stomach when he felt Blaine return his embrace with equal strength. Kurt didn't usually get that close to people, Brittany being the only exception. It felt exceedingly strange to have another flat chest pressed up against his.

Closing his eyes briefly, Kurt turned his face inward slightly and inhaled Blaine's scent. He must have taken a bath in the short time since he had arrived at court, for he didn't smell like the dirt of the road but rather like lavender soap – a scent that Kurt was actually particularly fond of. Realizing that he might have held on to Blaine too long – and not realizing that Blaine hadn't made a move to break the contact first – Kurt hastily withdrew.

"How did you know I'd be out here?" He asked Blaine, eyes fixed on the other boy's face.

"I saw you leave the banquet hall early. I was…uh, I was watching you, actually," Blaine confessed, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "You didn't seem to see me when the company came in. Or I thought you might be…ignoring me for some reason."

"No," Kurt said quickly, reaching out to take Blaine's hand in his before he realized that they were both eighteen now, and two men holding hands wasn't the same as two five year old boys. "I have to stand there all day. If you don't zone out a bit or find something to occupy your thoughts, you're doomed." Kurt felt Blaine's hand slowly return the pressure. "And I was trying to look out over the crowd during the feast but there were just so many people…"

"I suppose I had it easy then. I knew where to look for you." His eyes left Kurt's and traveled to the thin coronet he still wore. "That's a nice touch," Blaine said, reaching up to brush his fingers lightly against the golden band. He smiled at Kurt – that secret smile that made him feel as if they were about to share an inside joke. "What, they don't let you wear flowers behind your ear anymore? Or is that out of fashion? Pity, I thought it was lovely; I might have given it a try."

"Oh I can put anything back in fashion," Kurt replied with a little self-assured nod. "If you're sure about the flowers, we can certainly make it work."

"I've heard you can," Blaine said, stepping toward the nook Kurt had been sitting in. He hadn't let go of Kurt's hand, and so he tugged him along. He sat on the stone and drew his legs up against his chest. Kurt sat next to him gingerly, letting their interlocked hands rest between them. "I've heard that the people have you under close watch here, observing what you do and mimicking it as soon as possible. Are you always under such close scrutiny?"

"There's no one watching me now."

"True."

"But I've heard things about you too," Kurt said enthusiastically. "Wonderful, wonderful things; no one has a single bad thing to say about Lord Ashtabula's squire." He smiled at Blaine. "They say he's quite the future knight – quite the hero."

"It sounds like a lot of things are being said about both of us," Blaine said with a laugh.

"At least it's all positive," Kurt offered.

"Indeed." Blaine paused and looked at the ground as he tapped his toe into a particularly scuffed area of the stone. "Though I also heard news of Prince David's combat successes –"

"They're nothing like yours," Kurt interrupted. "But if successes mean winning tournaments that people are afraid to let him lose, then you're quite correct. I believe he'll have quite a shock with people around that can actually contend with him."

Blaine smiled shyly before continuing, "I haven't heard anything of that sort…about you. I thought that perhaps Ashtabula is too far on the outskirts of the country; news is slow to reach us as it is."

"I didn't actually pursue the route of knighthood," Kurt said slowly. "Of course, I was still trained in the arts and Dave still can't beat me at archery…when I'm not distracted." His eyes flicked up to meet Blaine's momentarily and they shared a smile. "But I found that the sword forging, not to mention the sword _fighting_, and the lancing and the getting all sweaty…well, they weren't for me. Now the classes in chivalry I could handle, if only that were all it was."

"The getting sweaty wasn't for you?" Blaine asked, smothering something that sounded very like a mischievous giggle.

Kurt wanted to whack his head against something hard, hard enough to knock him out. Out of everything that he'd said, Blaine had to pick out that one detail? "Well we've already said that all eyes are on me, aren't they?" Kurt grinned slyly and raised an eyebrow. "I have great power, I have to be careful. If all of that had happened, next thing I knew people could be walking around everywhere drenched to the bone in sweat." At that moment, his stomach made an unholy grumble, his delayed hunger hitting him suddenly. Kurt wasn't sure whether he was thankful for it changing the subject or whether it was just another thing to be embarrassed about.

"Someone is paying for not eating their dinner, hmm?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I wasn't hungry…at the time," Kurt defended himself. "I might have been a _little_ anxious today." Blaine would never have to know how big of an understatement that was.

"Should I be flattered?" Blaine asked, laying his unoccupied hand against his chest and receiving Kurt's glare with a wide smile. "Well if it's any consolation…I was a little bit anxious too." Kurt lifted his eyes to meet Blaine's amber gaze and found that he couldn't keep up his glare. "Does this call for a sojourn over to the kitchens, then?"

"I think it does," Kurt answered with a nod. Only as he stood and consequentially moved out of Blaine's grasp did he realize that they'd still been holding hands at all. He felt his cheeks heat up, and Kurt cradled his hand against his chest. "Oh! Uh…sorry. I didn't even…wow, I didn't even notice that I was still –"

Blaine also stood up, still smiling widely. "Why does this sound familiar?" He asked, momentarily leaning closer to Kurt and making him flush harder. He was suddenly glad for the relative cover of darkness because something was obviously wrong with his cheeks, making them flush almost proactively. "For fear of sounding overly repetitive, I'll just remind you that this ends with me saying it's alright." Blaine shrugged one shoulder and lifted a hand to touch the one cradled against Kurt's chest briefly, fingers gently tracing Kurt's skin before his hand dropped back down to his side. "And that it was kind of nice. C'mon!"

Blaine began to walk back toward the main castle and Kurt fell in step beside him. As they entered through the doors, Kurt stared at him through his lashes. He couldn't help it. The fluttering butterflies had made another clamor when Blaine had touched his hand; it had been horribly pleasant. He'd never felt anything quite like it before. The closest thing he could compare it to was the feeling you got when you were hurrying up a set of stairs and thought there was one more than there actually was: you were left to fall through nothing but air for a brief moment, leaving your stomach to flip and your heart to miss a beat.

Kurt hardly knew what that meant, and as he looked at Blaine he hardly cared to dwell on it. As many times as he had pictured this moment in his head over the last years, somehow it was better than all of his imaginings. This was reality.

* * *

><p>"Do you so swear to be ever courteous and to never refuse your mercy to him that asks of it?" King Paul was standing before his large throne in the ceremony chamber. In his hands he held his sword, point to the ground and hands resting on the top of the jeweled hilt.<p>

"I do so swear." Before him knelt Blaine. He was on bended knee, head bowed to the ground and sword at his side. He was dressed from head to toe in full armor and chainmail, as ceremony dictated.

"Good, for a knight of the realm should be ever courteous, kind, and gentle. He should be in the good favor of all. Do you so swear to uphold good, and cast aside the evil and vain glory of this world? Do you so swear to protect those who beseech action that will not result in your shame, and to uphold your word?"

"I do so swear."

"Good, for a knight might defend against evil, and protect those who are distressed. A knight of the realm must keep the word he has given to those who request it of him. Do you so swear never to bow to cowardice?"

"I do so swear."

"Good, for it is a knight's duty to risk danger for honor, and come to the aid of others as he would want them to come to his aid, should the need arise. Do you so swear to live a stainless existence, and do not or slay not anything that will dishonor the fair name of our nation?"

"I do so swear."

"Good, for a knight must abide by charity, abstinence, and truth. He must always seek glory for his king and country. Finally, do you give this oath of your own free will, and do you swear yourself to always protect the people and uphold the honor of our country?"

"I, Blaine Anderson of Westerville, do give myself to my king and country to protect and serve my honorable nation, and my fellow citizens."

The king smiled and raised his sword. Gently, he touched its blade to each of Blaine's shoulders and to the crown of his head. "Then rise, Blaine Anderson, knight of Algania."

Blaine raised his head and stood properly. The crowds assembled for the ceremony cheered – the loudest applause Kurt had heard, other than the cheers for his cousin. Everybody had heard many tales of the knight-in-training at Ashtabula, and everybody had been eager to see him knighted by the king.

Kurt stood in his proper place among the crowd, though he was clapping louder than anyone in his vicinity. He beamed at Blaine as the king approached the new knight and clapped him on the shoulder, exchanging words that Kurt couldn't hear.

The crowd broke its rigid ranks, as Blaine had been the last to be knighted; the order had been decided by a random draw. Kurt immediately made his way toward the new knight. As the king turned and walked away, Blaine turned. A smile lit his face as he saw Kurt making his way through the crowd.

"Congratulations, Sir Blaine," Kurt said playfully, stopping a few feet away and dipping into a small bow.

Blaine looked stunned. "Thank you. I can't believe this day has finally come. I can't believe I'm…I'm a knight!"

"You are," Kurt said with a chuckle, laying a hand on Blaine's shoulder over his armor as he turned them around and began to make for the large doors. "I never doubted you."

Blaine shot him a grateful smile and ducked his head, almost shyly. "I don't even know what I'm going to do now."

"Well that's the glorious thing about having a peace loving king. You don't _have_ to do anything." Kurt was suddenly rather glad that his uncle wasn't the type of king who was keen to wage wars. If he had been, he might be saying goodbye to Blaine yet again. "But for now, you can go change out of that armor. The king and queen have quite the list of festivities lined up tonight, in celebration of the new knights."

"Should I be afraid?" Blaine asked, shooting Kurt a nervous glare. "That sounds intimidating."

"Perhaps just a bit," Kurt responded with an amused laugh. Blaine still looked slightly unsure, so Kurt moved his hand from his nearby shoulder to drape his arm around Blaine's shoulders entirely. They exited the large room and began making their way to the stairs that would take them up to the floor that held rooms for the nobility. "But you don't have to worry. You have me, don't you? I've been doing these things my entire life and believe me, being the center of attention isn't all bad. You'll get used to it; everybody seems to adore you, so you might even grow quite fond of it."

"We'll just have to see about that one," Blaine said, chuckling along with Kurt. "You're right about one thing though: I do have you." Kurt told himself that it was simply his imagination when Blaine leaned into his grip slightly, kicking up the butterflies in his stomach once again.

* * *

><p><span>Fun Fact<span>: Every order of knighthood had its own chivalric code that the knights had to pledge themselves by. Many of the real ones center around becoming a knight for God, which obviously isn't what I was going for here. It's probably painstakingly obvious that I'm drawing a lot of inspiration from Arthurian legend for this story. I know a lot about it, it's familiar territory for me, and it's easier to write in that register, so once again I used it and drew from different variations of the oath for a knight of Camelot for the Blaine's oath of knighthood. There's obviously no exact transcripts so I took bits and pieces of what a chivalric knight is expected to do and not do and converted them into the back-and-forth oath between Blaine and King Paul. If you Google "Knight's Oath to Camelot" you'll be able to see more criteria for being a knight of the realm. Much of what applied to the Knights of the Round Table applies to our knights here.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Oohh, the boys are already flirting and acting adorable. I was worried, when I began to write this chapter, that they might be awkward for a while but I'm glad they aren't!_

_I feel like I always have way too much to say in these author's notes, so I'm sorry if they bother anyone but I like to cover all my bases! I know people are excited for those M scenes - ohhh, believe me I am too, I might have already written them out of order because I was so dang eager *ahem* - and I know that a hot interaction is positively torture to wait for. But above all, I'm trying to shoot for realism as much as a I can here, you know? It isn't plausible for someone living in the days of chivalric knights to launch into a male-male relationship super quickly. They wouldn't have been taught anything about homosexuality besides that it was unnatural, and even that would be a stretch for people as young and sheltered as our lovely young nobles here. So I beseech all of you lovely readers to stick with me in spite of the lead-up that is happening. But there will be some jumps in the seasons ahead - after all, this background is Kurt reflecting on the events that happened to get him to where he was in the first chapter, not on everything that has ever happened at court. That was a super cryptic explanation, I tend to do that a lot. Let's just say: Good things come to those who wait, remember! :D_

_Thanks for reading, lovelies! :3_


	7. Chapter 7 :: A Death In The Court

_A/N: The events of this chapter are happening a little bit earlier than I anticipated, but a new plot arch constructed itself in my head and I'm running with it! I hope you all enjoy it! :)_

* * *

><p><em>Summer, 628 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

Kurt woke up with the worst headache he had ever had, which was saying quite a lot, seeing as he had become something of a connoisseur of throbbing headaches in the last few months. As it turned out, the arrival of the knights, with the summer season riding in on their coattails, gave ample occasion for raucous parties, and his peers were not short on enthusiasm for them. Kurt had found himself easily swept up in the glamour and excitement that was making merry with his nation's most elite sect of nobles.

He sat up in bed and braced his feet on the floor, the coldness of the ground drawing his mind back to himself a bit. He made the mistake of trying to shake his head in order to clear it. Instead of relief, he felt like his brain and eyeballs had taken it upon themselves to rattle around inside of his head and disorient him as much as they could, even as a wave of dizziness almost sent him flopping back onto his covers.

Sighing to himself over the sorry state he was in, Kurt hobbled over to his wash basin as he tried to remember what had happened last night. He remembered that they had been serving some new undiluted alcohol that the court had just received as a gift from the kings in the northern Germanic tribes, as a continuous sign of their peace and cooperation. Kurt had realized too late that he couldn't just consume copious amounts of it as he so readily did with the diluted wine they had at dinner. In fact, _everyone_ had come to that realization too late. He vaguely remembered Brittany stumbling away with him to…somewhere. A dark corner, perhaps – or one of the many shady enclaves carved out of the castle hallways. He remembered loud music and louder laughing. He remembered singing voices and shared goblets. Grimacing as he opened his curtains and let the evil sunlight into his room, Kurt just hoped that everyone else's memories were as foggy as his.

A knock came from his door – an awfully _loud_ knock – and Kurt grimaced as the sound sent twanging vibrations through his skull. "It's open," he mumbled.

He turned from the windows, where the sun was high in the sky, to see his father open the door and step into the room. Duke Burton paused in the door frame, face expressionless as he observed his son. Slowly, a small reluctant grin crept onto his face. "You look positively horrid," his father announced, making Kurt grimace once more.

"Do you _have_ to yell?" Kurt said through gritted teeth. "God…my head is – did someone take an axe to it last night without me noticing?"

"Not a literal one," Burton said, striding into the room and tossing back the rest of the curtains. "I suppose all I can say to you is that self-control is something that comes with time and experience."

"I have self-control," Kurt insisted. He turned toward his chest of drawers and promptly hit the outer edge of his foot on his bedpost, sending him into a careening hop as he held into his littlest toe and bemoaned his fate.

"I can see that," said his father, no longer able to hold back his chuckles. "Anyway, the reason I came was to make sure you didn't sleep away the day. We're approaching the noontime hour, you know."

Kurt rubbed at his eyes as he squinted into his chest of drawers and finally picked out the least complicated thing he could find: a simple, billowy, black shirt. He wasn't as surprised at the late hour as he had been when he overslept the day the knights arrived. As time went on, he was becoming used to long nights that eked into the wee hours of the morning, therefore cutting his real morning short.

Burton sighed and shook his head. "You look a mess," he repeated as he approached his son and attempted to flatten his haphazard hair.

Kurt made a sound of protest and batted his hands away. "I've got it under control," he said. Kurt knew that his father didn't doubt it. Kurt would not enter the public eye or even the semi-public eye of the castle until there was not one thing that they could scrutinize concerning his appearance.

"I'm sure you do then." Burton made for the door but paused in its frame. "You've got lip rouge down the side of your face," he added before he left. "I do not think I need to know where that came from."

Once his father left, Kurt hustled for the mirror only to look in and see that the left side of his mouth and cheek were tinted a shade of pink. It could only be from Brittany, though why she still insisted on pulling him off into corners was beyond Kurt's reasoning. He only figured that she must have gained some higher degree of enjoyment from it than he did.

The young prince quickly scrubbed off the stain and put his hair in order before slipping on his shirt and pants. He laced his boots in the best manner he could before exiting his room with a specific destination in mind.

* * *

><p>He made his way down the nearest flight of stairs – slowly, for the first step he took resulted in the world doing several turns about its axis – and to the palace kitchens. Once inside, his eyes immediately lit on Finn, sitting on a stool and being attended to by the woman Kurt had come looking for.<p>

She turned as he approached and wordlessly pulled up another stool for him. Kurt sat down and blinked at his step-brother several times before speaking. "At least I bothered to attempt to look mildly presentable."

"Shut up," Finn muttered, taking a gulp from the drink the woman gave him.

Kurt smirked and looked toward the woman who had helped him. She was middle aged, had more salt than pepper in her formerly dark hair, and she bore an uncanny resemblance to her daughter, Mercedes.

"Catalina," Kurt said, smiling at the head chef charmingly though the action made his head throb all over again. "Do you think you could…?"

"Already there, Your Highness," she said, turning around with a mug in her hands. Everyone in the palace knew that Catalina was the woman you went to if you woke up in the state Finn and Kurt were in. She handed it to Kurt and he nodded his thanks. "Would you believe that you two weren't the first ones to come here requesting my special recipe this morning?" She chuckled as she turned back to a stove, where Kurt could see something simmering.

"Actually yes," Kurt said dryly. "I very much can." He stood to his feet and walked to Mercedes's mother to place a swift kiss to her cheek. "I'll bring the mug back when I'm done. I just need a bit of fresh air. Finn, care to join?"

"No." When Kurt looked over at his brother, he saw that Finn had his face flat against the wooden table.

"Perhaps I'm better off than I thought," Kurt remarked to Catalina. "Watch him will you? Make sure he doesn't pass out on us or something of the like. Perhaps get some more of your magic ingredient in him before he keels over."

"Poor boy, I'll keep an eye on him," she told Kurt, nudging him to the door. "Off with you now."

Kurt smiled gratefully and left the kitchen in favor of the palace grounds, taking a large gulp of Catalina's miracle working drink as he did so. Almost immediately, he felt his head begin to settle and the light grow less extreme.

He rolled his head and shoulders a few times, vowing to take it easy for the next few days. Almost subconsciously, his feet carried him to the large hedge maze with Fons Fortunae residing at the center. He traversed the winding paths and made his way to the large fountain, which made the only noise in the otherwise silent midsummer's day.

Kurt drained the last few drops from his mug and set it on the edge of the fountain. He knelt on the ground and braced his hands on the stone edge. He propped his chin on his hands and peered into the water at the assortment of coins there. He'd always been intrigued by the fact that he couldn't recognize at least two thirds of them. Through the rippling water, he couldn't make out their details but he knew enough to see that they were not of his country or the surrounding ones. Kurt supposed that since he would never remove a coin from Fons Fortunae, he'd be fated to wonder about them forever.

Was living such a life – a life of frivolous parties and emotionless relationships – worth it, in the end? Suddenly curious, Kurt adjusted his position and looked directly into the fountain. There was a bona fide plethora of myths about Fons Fortunae, one remarkable one being that it would show you the face of your true love on a midsummer's day. Kurt had had enough of wondering about Brittany. Now it was time to know for sure.

"I don't have anything to give you," Kurt told the fountain, feeling tremendously stupid. "But if you could just show me the face…I'd be much obliged, and I'll, uh…bring a coin later." He peered into the water but nothing happened. Determinedly, he fixed his eyes to the surface, dead set on seeing a face there before he looked away.

Suddenly, a very familiar one came into being at the water's surface, right next to Kurt's own. He gaped at the water, suddenly wide awake and fully functional. "What the –"

"Escaping the courtiers now, are we?"

Kurt jumped as he heard Blaine's voice speak. He whirled around to see that the image in the water of Fons Fortunae had been nothing but a reflection, and Blaine really was standing right next to him. Immediately, he was ashamed of himself for thinking that the fountain had obliged his silly wish and shown him the face of his true love. After all, this was Blaine. "I'm hardly presentable," he said, sinking into a more comfortable position as Blaine settled onto the ground at his side.

"You look fine to me," Blaine told him. Kurt turned to face him with a quick smile before he looked back at the pond. "As usual, that is. Though you didn't look very cognizant of matters of presentation last night." Blaine chuckled, the action seeming forced.

Kurt looked at him quickly. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Blaine answered as he looked away. "You looked like you were having fun."

"And you weren't?"

"I was, of course. One would be hard pressed to not enjoy themselves at such events." Blaine paused, which caused Kurt's gaze to turn quizzical. "Perhaps I need to find a lady to court, as you have."

Kurt frowned. "As I have?"

"Brittany," Blaine remarked, still looking away.

"Oh," Kurt said quietly, the word trailing off. He didn't like the idea of Blaine finding someone to court, though he wasn't sure why. He could identify something akin to jealousy cropping up in his gut, though he wasn't sure that the emotion was fitting. Blaine would have to marry someone someday, and Kurt knew that he had no right or reason to be jealous in the least.

"Although…"

"Yes?" Kurt's tone was hopeful.

"You…said some things last night." Blaine rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. "Something about not feeling fizzy when you kissed her. What does that mean?"

Kurt gaped. "W-when did I say that? In front of everyone?"

"No," Blaine said hurriedly. "Just me. I walked you back to your rooms, just to make sure you got there okay."

Suddenly, the moment clicked in Kurt's memory.

_ He and Blaine were stumbling down the hallway. His arm was draped across the shorter boy's shoulders and Blaine had reached up to lace their fingers together. He was leaning on the knight for support as they walked along, still talking and laughing._

_ "Drink some water before you sleep," Blaine had told him. "Or else you'll be sorry come the morning."_

_ "Where are you going?"_

_ "To my rooms; they're only a bit away, don't worry."_

_ "But I don't want to be alone," Kurt had whined, his tone pathetic and pleading. "I don't want to be alone but I don't want to be with other people either. Just like I want to be fizzy like Dave says you're supposed to be fizzy. But…Brittany doesn't make me fizzy at all when we... I just…want to be fizzy."_

_ Blaine's brow had dipped in confusion but he'd ignored Kurt's nonsensical rambling and addressed the problem he could. "You aren't alone. I won't be far away. You know where my rooms are; come if you need anything." Blaine had started walking away but Kurt had grabbed his hand. "What…what is it, Kurt?"_

_ "You won't have to walk if you just stay here. Just stay here with me. Then I won't be alone and I won't be with Brittany; I have you."_

_ Blaine had hesitated but had eventually gone to pry Kurt's hand off of his own. "Go to bed," he had whispered. "Don't forget the water. I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt."_

"It means," Kurt started. "It means…I guess I just mean that people are assuming something that isn't there."

"It isn't there?"

"Not for me," Kurt said quietly, looking away from Blaine, who still refused to make eye contact. "She's not the right one, I guess."

"I guess not." Blaine's eyes flicked toward Kurt briefly. He chuckled as he observed Kurt's forlorn face. "Well don't look sad about it," he said, reaching out and squeezing Kurt's hand reassuringly, though he didn't let it go. "It isn't the end of the world. Besides, I'm sure that every person in court would be at your whim should you desire it of them."

Kurt smiled gratefully but didn't speak, and they sat for several moments in silence.

"I just remembered," Blaine said, digging into a pocket with his free hand. He pulled out a gleaming silver coin and held it up to the light. "A promise is a promise."

Kurt smiled widely at the sight of the coin. "It is indeed. What were you thinking?"

"We should decide together," Blaine said assuredly. "After all, it's only –"

"There you are!"

Kurt dropped Blaine's hand faster than a fiery hot brand. Since Blaine's return, they had often held hands when they were alone but Kurt knew that anyone beyond the two of them simply wouldn't understand. He turned to glare at the intruder. "What?"

"Dave sent everyone out looking for you," Santana continued. "We've been searching for ages." Kurt knew it couldn't have been _ages_, as his father had come to wake him up not even an hour ago.

His expression faltered when he noticed Santana's genuine panic and Kurt turned to exchange an uneasy glance with Blaine. "Santana," Blaine said slowly, tucking the coin back into his pocket. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"No." Now that Kurt had noticed it, she seemed on the verge of hysteria. There were tears brimming in her dark eyes and her top lip quavered with each word. "It's King Paul."

"What about him?" Kurt asked warily, standing up properly. A moment later he felt Blaine stand as well.

"He…he didn't wake up this morning," Santana stuttered, swiping angrily at her eyes. Kurt felt his mind flat line. "That's all I know; I don't know what else happened. I don't know what's wrong, Dave just sent me and many others to find you as soon as possible." She hesitated. "Kurt…what does this mean? What's going to happen?"

Kurt exchanged another look with Blaine, though this one was serious. In unison, they began to take long strides toward Santana where she stood at the inside mouth of the maze. She turned and fell into step beside them as they left and Kurt put a protective arm around her shoulders – he could feel her trembling. "It means," Kurt said, "that we're all in a hell of a lot of trouble."

* * *

><p>Kurt, Blaine, and Santana made their way to the king's chambers quickly. Kurt went to push his way through the door but was once again assaulted by a crowd akin to the one that had developed around his mother's deathbed. "Move," he commanded strongly. People turned to look at the owner of the commanding voice, and they immediately made a path for him.<p>

"Kurt," Blaine said quietly, touching his shoulder. "I…I think I'll wait outside. I don't want to…" He trailed off and shook his head.

Kurt laid a hand on his shoulder. "I just need to see what's going on," he told Blaine. "I…I need to know what's happening. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Blaine nodded and exited the room. Santana had entered after Kurt and now tugged on his sleeve. "Coming," he said, turning to approach the bed. He pushed people out of the way as he went, causing them to turn and glare as he passed.

"Dave," Kurt said, approaching his cousin, who stood at his father's bedside. Santana assumed a position at Dave's other side and wordlessly took his hand. "What…what…" His words trailed off abruptly as his eyes traveled down to his uncle, lying lifeless on his bed. Kurt's eyes went wide in spite of himself and his heart stilled. The king was still, his skin already pale with the color of death. His eyes were open and his lips were tinged with blue. In an instant, Kurt could tell that his death was in no way natural.

"Dave, get them out of here," he said, turning to his cousin. "Get them _out_. Order them all away except the court physician."

Dave turned to Kurt, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "I…I…"

"Look at him," Kurt whispered, drawing closer to his cousin. Dave's eyes flicked toward his father and then away just as quickly. "I know that feeling you get when a parent is suddenly not your parent any longer…nothing but an empty shell. I _know_ that feeling, and I know that the last thing you want to do right now is take charge of things. But you have to."

Dave stared at Kurt for a several moments before turning toward the crowded room of courtiers. Neither death nor birth were private events in the life of a noble, but it was a different matter with the king and a more different matter still when even Kurt could tell at a glance that his uncle hadn't died of natural causes.

"Get out," Dave said quietly. "Get out." His second repetition was louder and more authoritative, causing people to stop chattering and look at him. He paused a moment under their critical gazes. "That's an order."

"Dave," Santana started.

"It's fine," he told her, though his tone betrayed the falsity in his words. "I'll see you later."

Kurt saw them hesitate a brief moment but in light of the king's death, no one dared to defy his cousin. His mind was racing and Kurt was suddenly and rapidly thinking five steps ahead. He didn't know who would have targeted the king but he knew that they didn't need the entire court there when he was diagnosed, even if it was protocol for a crowd to be present.

"What happened?" Vivienne spoke quietly after the last courtier left the room. Kurt turned to her – she had been so quiet that he hadn't even noticed her presence – to see that she'd addressed the court physician. "Medice," she said softly. Kurt could hear that she was struggling to infuse her tone with calm. Despite the fact that Paul and Vivienne's union was arranged, Kurt had never had any doubt that they'd grown genuinely fond of each other. "You've been silent but your face tells me that you're able to tell more than you let on. What is it?" Her voice broke at the end and her brother, the last person still present, put a comforting arm around his sister's shoulders.

The court physician, Medice, looked from the late king to the queen and back to the lifeless body once more. "Do you see how his lips have already turned blue here?" he asked, pointing to the dead king's mouth. "And his face has taken on a white pallor too quickly."

"Speak plain," Kurt's father ordered. "We are nto fools; we all have eyes."

"Poison," Medice said quietly. "I cannot determine what kin,d only that it was meant to be lethal. This is no accident. The king has been murdered."

"Who would do such a thing?" Dave asked, his head bowed over his father's body.

"Many people would do such a thing," his mother answered.

"But all father wanted was peace," Dave said, his voice growing stronger. "If people still want to see the end of the most peaceful king this nation has ever seen, why bother at all? Why strive for peace when you could simply conquer?"

"It isn't that simple, David," Queen Vivienne snapped. "You quite obviously still have a lot to learn."

"I know enough," he defended himself. "I know enough to know that whoever killed my father will get what is coming to them. I know enough to know that the fact this happened means we have to have a traitor in our midst. I know enough to know that I _will_ be able to seek justice, because I am first in line for the throne. I know enough to know that I am now in charge of what becomes of this country." He fixed his mother with an unwavering stare and turned on his heel to exit the room.

Kurt's head turned to follow Dave as he left. When he was gone, he turned back to his aunt. She didn't let her emotions show on her face but Kurt thought that her eyes betrayed the smallest hint of unease. _He_ was certainly uneasy. "I'll begin arrangements for the funeral," she said quietly. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Kurt realized that she hadn't attempted to smile her way through the difficult times.

"What now?" Kurt asked his father quietly. Only they and Medice remained.

"We wait and see what happens," his father said. "If Medice here can determine the poison and who might have sent it, I've no doubt that Dave will declare war on them, if only for spite alone. We must accept whatever happens." Burton approached Kurt and they turned to walk toward the door together. "And we must do our best to aid the good outcomes."

They exited the room and Kurt immediately saw Blaine, who was sitting against a wall. He stood up at the sight of them and dipped into a bow for the Duke. "We shall take it as it comes," Duke Burton said in farewell after nodding to Blaine in acknowledgement.

Blaine's eyes relayed his silent question and Kurt sank back onto the wall that Blaine had been leaning against. A moment later, Blaine sat close to him so that the sides of their bodies were pressed together. "Poison," Kurt said quietly. "Dave is furious, of course."

"Poisoned? But by whom?"

"Hopefully we will never find out," Kurt said passionately. "It will just urge Dave to declare a stupid war for revenge's sake."

"But shouldn't we seek retribution for the murdering of our king?"

"People will die," Kurt said shortly. _You might die_.

"People will die one way or another," Blaine answered. "That's the way of things. That is what knights train for – that is what _I_ have trained for: to fight for our king and country."

"That needn't be anytime soon," Kurt said stubbornly.

"I don't understand," Blaine said, reaching out to take Kurt's hand. Kurt grasped his fingers thankfully and leaned against him a bit more, relishing in the comforting warmth of his side. "Of course, I see why the king's death is a terrible thing, and I do see why you wouldn't want war. But I don't understand why you're so uneasy when you do not know for certain if any of this will come into being."

"If we don't go to war, someone will declare war on us," Kurt said, tone downcast. "With Uncle – _King_ Paul gone, Dave is officially on the high throne and he's only as old as you or I. He is no king, he's hardly an adult. I've grown up my entire life hearing stories of nations that fell because they were ruled by a boy king who didn't know how to command his armies or combat his enemies as they moved to take advantage of his youth and naivety."

"Well you sound like you know what you're talking about," Blaine reassured him. "I'm sure Dave does, too."

"I hope so." Before he could stop himself, Kurt leaned down so that his head rested on Blaine's shoulder. He wanted to wrap his arms around the other boy and bury his face into his chest and never look out at the world again but there was a thin strain of sense that restrained him. But even as that thought entered his mind, Kurt felt Blaine's hand shift out of his own so he could wrap his arm around Kurt's shoulders, encircling him in his firm, muscular grasp.

Deciding that a moment of weakness would hardly demean him in Blaine's eyes, Kurt leaned into the circle of his arms gratefully. His eyes fluttered closed. At least here in Blaine's arms, even if it was for only a moment, he felt as safe as could be.

* * *

><p><span>Fun fact:<span> Germanic tribes weren't Germans as we think of them today. They migrated through Europe in the Early Middle Ages, when this fic is set. Eventually, the Germanic tribes settled into stable kingdoms, such as the Vikings and many other Northern European societies.

**I suppose this would be a good time to mention that fictional Algania, though named after the United States in a roundabout way, can't plausibly reside in the U.S. in the Early Middle Ages. In my head, I see it as sitting between France and Germany (directly under England, so picture Portugal, Spain, and France moved out to the west a little bit) and about the size of the modern day latter ... though in the shape of Ohio :D

* * *

><p><em>AN: And there we have it! King Karofsky is born! I won't be covering the coronation ceremony; I contemplated it but it was rather superfluous and potentially dull so it's better mentioned in passing. I have a little teaser for what might be to come though! One of these things is true!: 1) The former king was one of the people who requested Catalina's hangover remedy earlier that day. She is the traitor at court (I mentioned earlier that she and Mercedes were from Spain) and she poisoned the king's cup. Dave finds out and declares war on Spain. But hasn't Catalina been loyal to Algania since she and Mercedes came there over a dozen years ago? 2) The new alcohol from the north was a vessel for the poison since no one knew what it was supposed to taste like. A server slipped poison into Paul's cup. Dave finds out and declares war on the Germanic tribes. But weren't goblets being shared? And 3) Dave doesn't find out who poisoned his father but he isn't content with mirroring Paul's peaceful lifestyle. Despite Vivienne's good council, he declares war on the first country to give him the smallest excuse to do so. Vivienne continues to strongly express her disapproval, driving Dave to indefinitely exile her to a faraway fief and secondary castle. But aren't people always saying Vivienne is a critical aspect in the Alganian monarchy?_

_Any guesses? :D Again, feedback is greatly appreciated and thanks to all for reading!_


	8. Chapter 8 :: War

_A/N: Greetings again, ladies and gents, or welcome back! :D I've been horribly neglecting my other multi-chapter for this one but I had to get this chapter out there! _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Early Autumn, 628 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

Kurt sat in a chair at Dave's right. His cousin had been officially crowned the king of Algania immediately following his father's funeral. Since then, he had been calling together regular councils consisting of his peers – the people who would be in his inner circle and advise him in all matters. They had met to talk about everything from monetary circulation to extending their trade route into the Far East, but everyone knew that the reason Dave collected such a group around him was to discuss matters of war.

"Medice approached me this morning," Dave said slowly, taking time to look at each person individually. "We all know that he was able to salvage traces of the poison used on my late father. Over the last several months he has been processing the small sample he had with extreme care, for if it were to be wasted, all information would be lost with it."

"The tests have all been inconclusive," Kurt murmured, picking at a chip in the table.

"Up until now," Dave said, turning toward his cousin. He batted Kurt's hand away from where it picked at the table. "Don't do that. I ordered him to speak to me immediately and directly should he find anything and as I said a moment ago, had you been listening, he approached me this morning."

"And?" Kurt rolled his eyes as the eager question came from Noah Puckerman. Kurt had quickly found that not everyone was as adverse to war as he was. In fact, the majority of knights at the court were jumping at their bits. Even Blaine seemed eager to a degree, though he didn't let on as much around Kurt.

"And he found traces of a lethal plant that only grows in the north," Dave continued, tilting his head. "The night before his death we had a celebration in which we drank from a new drink sent by a Germanic king."

"That doesn't make any sense," Kurt said quickly. "Even if the poison was somehow in the king's cup alone, everyone was drinking from the nearest goblet that night and no one else met the same fate."

"We caught the traitor," Dave told him, his lips curling up in a smile. "Our experts…_persuaded_ him into giving us answers. He arrived the day before and was paid by a middleman to watch the king's cup and made sure he alone drank from it."

"It _still_ doesn't make any sense," Kurt persisted. "The gift was sent as a sign of their continuing intent for –"

"Peace and prosperity?" Dave asked bitterly.

"_Yes._"

"Well how ironic, then."

"They have never been anything but cooperative. Why would they assassinate a king?" Kurt asked. "Why would anyone sacrifice such a peace, Dave?"

"You may call me _Your Majesty_," Dave commanded, his face serious. Kurt scowled and looked away. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair.

"Kurt's right. It is puzzling," Blaine spoke up from several chairs away. "It would seem as if they were trying to provoke you – as if they wanted you to take their bait. Why else would they use a plant from their own country? It's too obvious."

"This is not a debate," Dave said fiercely. "Do not treat it as such."

"The Germanic tribes of the north were born to fight," Blaine pressed on. "I do not put it past them to create an opportunity to demolish the Alganian armies so they are free to invade with no resistance."

"Just as you were born to fight. You are undeniably a fierce warrior," Dave said to Blaine, though the words appeared to be coming from him more painfully than pulled teeth. "And I do not doubt that if we had hundreds like you we could defeat the kings of the north in one fell swoop. But you are obviously no strategist and I would do to remind you who the king is here."

Blaine inclined his head and sat back in his chair.

"We leave as soon as possible," Dave said with an air of finality.

"But the winter is about to set in, the armies will be frozen alive," Kurt said, appalled that Dave would propose such a thing. "We aren't used to northern winters."

"_You_ don't have to be used to anything, cousin," Dave said with a sneer. "Since you oh so honorably dropped from the challenge of pursuing your knighthood, you get to sit here, snug and warm in the castle. You'd get killed in the first hour anyway."

"I think we should consult Queen Vivienne," Kurt insisted, his reservations hyperactive.

"My mother knows nothing but what my father told her. Her counsel is useless."

"You know that isn't true," Kurt defended his aunt.

"It is true enough," Dave said, standing. Everyone else stood a moment later. No one was to remain seated while a king stood in their presence. "I am sending a messenger on the morrow, declaring our intent for war. You should immediately prepare yourselves." He walked from the Counsel Chamber, the other men that had been assembled following close on his heels.

Kurt had been the only one who didn't rise after the king. He had remained seated stubbornly. Blaine approached and took a chair at his side. "You won't really stay in the castle?" Blaine asked, his amber eyes wide.

"No," Kurt said dully, picking at the chip once more. "No, I won't." He turned to fix Blaine's amber gaze with his blue one. "Why did you take my side? I thought you were eager for war."

"Eager isn't the right word for it," Blaine said. "If I have to fight, I will do so gladly. The king was right: it is what I was trained to do. But I don't want people to die for nothing. People will die, you know."

"I know," Kurt agreed bitterly.

"But it won't be either of us," Blaine assured him with a forced smile. "I promise."

"You can't promise such a thing," Kurt said, finally getting to his feet.

"No," Blaine agreed. "But I think I know someone who just might be able to. Right before we leave, you and I must visit her."

* * *

><p><em>Late Autumn, 628 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

"The provisions are packed?"

"Yes."

"And each knight will be carrying his own weaponry and armor?"

"Yes," Kurt answered again. Dave knew the answers to the questions he asked but Kurt figured that asking them again for the millionth time was a nervous habit and if it reassured him, Kurt was happy to oblige.

"Then we leave when everyone is assembled."

"What? _Today?_" Kurt asked. "Shouldn't you wait for morning's first light tomorrow?" It was already midmorning; the day was fully underway already.

"Of course today. We don't have an hour to spare. Bid farewell to whomever you like and come here afterward. If you insist on slowing us down during the journey you may as well be on time for the departure."

Kurt left grumbling. He made his way straight to his father's chambers. "Dave insists on leaving now," he complained as soon as he saw the duke. "He's assembling the knights. We're leaving north, on a war march, _now._"

"He is the king," Kurt's father said flatly. "He may do as he wishes."

"But you don't approve," Kurt pointed out. "You think he's being foolish. So does Aunt Vivienne. So do _I_." Burton shrugged but did not say anything. "I don't know when I'll see you again." Kurt's voice had dropped to a whisper.

"But you will see me again," his father said, approaching Kurt and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I will be here when you return."

"If I return."

"_When_ you return," the duke repeated, shifting his hold on Kurt so he held his son in a hug. Kurt hugged back tightly. "The knights of Algania are fierce; they have been trained well. Do not count yourselves out so soon."

"Thank you," Kurt whispered, releasing his father.

"I'll come to see you off," his father said, walking to the door.

"I have a few more things to do before I depart."

"I'll see if I can find Carole and Finn. We'll all be there to bid you farewell." Kurt nodded as his father spoke and went in search of one last person.

* * *

><p>"Aunt Vivienne?" Kurt called. He had been told that his aunt was in a sewing room by one of her servants. Indeed, a moment later he saw her sitting in a plush chair, stabbing angrily at a square of fabric with an embroidery needle.<p>

"Kurt," she said, unhanding the sharp object. She cleared her throat and sat straighter in her chair. "I heard you are to be leaving soon."

"Within the hour if Dave has his way," Kurt said. "Has he come to say farewell to you yet?"

She hesitated before looking down at her pale hands, which sat in her lap. "No," she said quietly.

Kurt's heart constricted and he approached his aunt. He knelt in front of her and took one of her cold, pale hands in his. "I think I'll miss you the most out of anyone," he told his aunt, holding her hand securely in his. He offered her a bright smile. "Dave doesn't know what he has when it's right in front of him. I may have lost my real mother when I was small but I'm still luckier than most people. It's been an opportunity for me to have many mothers. Now I have Daphne, Carole, and you of course. No matter what happens, Aunt Vivienne, I will never forget all you've done – and you have done more than your share ten times over."

The queen smiled graciously and laid her other hand over Kurt's. "You've always been too compassionate for your own good, Kurt," she told him. "It is your greatest attribute and your greatest weakness both. But you're a better person for it, better than most."

"I'm sorry I don't have more time. Will you come to see us off?" Kurt asked, getting to his feet.

"I think not," she said with a shake of her head. Kurt's heart broke at how frail his beloved aunt seemed to have become in the months after her husband's death.

"Then I will see you when I return," Kurt promised. "Goodbye, Aunt Vivienne."

* * *

><p>Kurt was making his way back to the entrance hall, feet moving quickly, when a hand reached out of the shadows and yanked him away from his path.<p>

"Blaine," said Kurt, laying a hand over his heart. "You scared me half to death. What on earth are you doing?"

"We're leaving."

"Yes?"

"So we have something to do," Blaine reminded him. He raised his eyebrows. "A promise to keep?"

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "Come on," he urged.

As quickly as they could, the pair raced out of the castle, into the grounds, through the hedges, and to the side of Fons Fortunae. Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand as they neared the fountain's edge. "We don't have much time," Blaine said, pulling a coin from his pocket. "We better make it count."

"For more reasons than one," Kurt supplied, pulling out a coin of his own. He turned to look at Blaine. "How exactly do you talk to a fountain?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you?" Blaine teased with a small grin, making Kurt blush. "I guess I'll just talk." He cleared his throat. "Fortune," he began. "I…I offer you this coin as a sacrifice to beseech your protection in this war that we've been ordered to fight in honor of our country. Not only protection for me," he glanced at Kurt and squeezed his hand tighter, "but for Kurt too. Whatever happens…don't let anything happen to him." He flipped the coin up, and a moment later it plopped into the water.

"And if anything happens to Blaine, I'm coming back here to steal all of your coins, no matter the consequence," Kurt said, throwing in his own coin.

His wish startled a laugh out of Blaine. "I don't think that's the way to get on Fortune's good side."

"But it's true." Kurt smiled in return but his mood was still serious as he turned his attention to Fons Fortunae once more. "Don't let anything hurt him. Don't let anything hurt _us_."

They were silent for a few seconds before turning away to leave the hedge maze. "You think it will work?" Blaine asked.

"It had better," Kurt responded. "I guess we'll see."

When they reached the entrance hall, many people were already there, Dave among them. Kurt felt a tap on his shoulder and when he turned around, Sam stood there with the bag carrying Kurt's gear slung over his shoulder. "What are you doing?" Kurt asked in disbelief.

"I'm coming with you!"

"Absolutely not," Kurt said, shaking his head. "I will not have another of my friends in danger's way."

"I'm no fighter; you know that," Sam said. "But I'm assuming you'll need a servant to help with your things."

Kurt rolled his eyes, seeing that protest was futile. In all honesty, he wasn't all too inclined to turn Sam away at all. "I think we have enough of those, don't we Blaine?" Kurt asked, turning to Blaine with a mischievous smile.

Blaine was quick to catch on. "Quite enough," he replied, grinning at Sam. Sam's face fell slowly.

"But there's one thing we were missing. What was that, Blaine? It's on the tip of my tongue, I can't quite remember…" By this point, Sam was looking extremely confused.

"I think what Kurt is _trying_ to get at," Blaine told Sam, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Is that you shouldn't come as a servant, but as a friend. God knows how long we'll be gone. We need all the good company we can get."

"You two are crazy. Finishing each other's thoughts and sentences and whatnot. Good Lord" Sam said, letting out a sigh of relief and a nervous chuckle. "You're enough to drive a person mad." He laughed along with them as they continued to prepare.

* * *

><p><em>Early Summer, 629 A.D.; the countryside on the outskirts of Vilnius, Lithuania<em>

"What did I tell you?" Dave boasted. "Tomorrow we attack the king's castle at Vilnius and once we have the capital we have the country. We are so _close_ to retribution."

"You act as if we haven't suffered losses," Kurt said dryly. Boasting of his successes in war was one of his cousin's newest and fondest hobbies.

"Pawns," said Dave with a wave if his hand. "We've reached victory in record time."

"There is no such thing as a pawn. There are only people."

"I beg to differ."

"People will undoubtedly die tomorrow in the siege on the capital," Kurt said.

"What do you want me to _say_?" Dave shouted. "That I'll call everything off now and run back to Algania? Do you know how close we are to victory? I don't know how my father managed peace so long with this as the alternative. This is _wonderful._"

"What will you do with this godforsaken place when you've taken it, then?"

"I don't know and I hardly care. It can sit here and rot for all I care about it. All that matters to me is that I have gotten justice for what they did to my father. People will think twice before crossing us again." Dave smirked at Kurt. "You fighting alongside the real knights was all well and good in little country brawls, cousin, but tomorrow is a genuine siege. You may stay here tomorrow."

"Gladly," Kurt shot back at him before exiting his tent. Why Dave had even summoned him there escaped Kurt entirely. He stomped all the way back to his tent and through the flap only to see that someone was already inside. "Your own tent doesn't present good enough company?" Kurt asked Blaine, still grumpy.

"You've been talking to Dave I see," Blaine said, holding up a hand when he saw Kurt move to apologize. "No need. I know how…frustrating he can be to deal with at times."

"Frustrating isn't quite the right word for it." Kurt sat cross-legged on a mat on the ground. "Why are you here though? Not that I mind," he added quickly.

"I wanted to see you before tomorrow," Blaine said, suddenly sounding unsure of himself. "Just…just in case something happens."

"You haven't been harmed this far and you better not plan for anything different tomorrow. Nothing will happen," Kurt said firmly. Blaine still looked unsure, so Kurt shifted closer to him and grabbed one of his hands. "Nothing will happen," he repeated. In a move that would have him questioning his sanity later, he raised Blaine's hand to his lips, keeping his eyes fixed on Blaine's. "Nothing will happen," he murmured again, lips brushing against the skin of the back of Blaine's hand.

Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine's skin gently. He heard Blaine inhale a ragged breath, and Kurt's stomach seemed to have taken on a life of its own, doing flips and pirouettes inside of him. "I don't know what would become of me if anything happened to you," Kurt breathed quietly. "And I don't…I don't know what excuse to give you that could explain away the reason I feel like that." He used his grip on Blaine's hand to draw them closer together. Blaine's amber eyes had gone wide and questioning. "I just know that if you die…I die." Kurt had lifted his hand and was about to touch it to Blaine's cheek – Blaine's eyes had slid closed and he was leaning toward the impending contact – when a call came from outside.

"Kurt?" There was a dull thud and the sound of clanging armor followed by a string of curses. "_Ow!_" Kurt and Blaine sprang apart faster than lightning and when Sam entered they were on opposite sides of the tent, though both of their faces were bright red. "King Dave said that you weren't to go on the siege tomorrow? Is that true? I – oh Blaine, I didn't see you there." Sam nodded at the knight in greeting, as his hands were full. "Blaine, you aren't sick, are you? You look strange…we can't have our best knight ailing on the eve of the most important day of battle."

"I'm fine," Blaine said quickly, avoiding eye contact with both Sam and Kurt. "I'll see you both tomorrow. I…I have to go."

Blaine stumbled toward the tent flap, apologizing profusely to Sam as he accidentally knocked a piece of armor out of his grasp. "It's fine, it's fine," Sam assured him. "Go get some rest." Blaine nodded hurriedly and left. Sam turned to Kurt as he shook his head. "That was weird. Kurt, are you sure there isn't something going around?" He observed his friend with concern. "You look unwell too."

"I'm just…angry about staying here tomorrow," Kurt lied, flopping onto his cot face first.

"Well, I'm glad about it," Sam said, moving to pile the armor in the corner of the tent. "It means you're safe. Everyone else is taking a great risk tomorrow. I do not look forward to accounting for the casualties."

"That makes two of us," Kurt said, turning onto his side and clutching a pillow to his stomach. He was prepared to face a long, sleepless night.

* * *

><p>Kurt wound up settling into a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning, several hours shy of sunrise. His dreams were filled with Blaine. What had happened the night before swam in and out of his mind. What <em>had<em> happened the night before? Kurt didn't know what he was feeling. If he didn't know better, he would have called it…but no, it couldn't be. This was Blaine, after all. The fact that he wanted to hold him and never let go, the fact that he wanted to feel the touch of their bare skin together, the fact that his mind kept imagining a scene where Kurt went to kiss him again, somewhere very different…well, none of that meant anything – none of that could happen, _period._

When he woke up in the morning, the knights were already gone.

Consequentially, he spent the entire day pacing in circles around the camp, snapping at anyone who spoke to him. Darkness came and he still had no news from anyone who had left on the siege. He was worrying himself into a fit, and Sam had to continuously remind him to carry out basic tasks, like eating.

"What's happened to them?" Kurt asked over and over. "What's taking so long? Shouldn't they have taken the capital by now if they were to succeed? Why have we gotten no word from anyone?"

"Calm down," Sam would reassure him again and again. "These things take a bit of time. They are strong; they will not fail." Sam paused, scraping at the bottom of his bowl after dinner. Kurt's portion still sat untouched. "I know you cannot be this worried about King Dave," Sam said cautiously.

Kurt's head shot up and he looked around self-consciously. No one was close enough to hear their conversation. "No," he said slowly. "I…I don't know why I'm so worried about him."

"We're all worried," Sam told him consolingly. "But…there's something you aren't telling me. Kurt?" The prince looked up at Sam's earnest eyes. "We've been friends longer than I remember. You know that you can tell me anything. You know that above all else, I'll always be on your side."

"I know that," Kurt whispered. He opened his mouth several times but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "But I don't know…what's going on." He felt his cheeks heating up dramatically and Kurt couldn't make eye contact with the blonde. "I don't know why I'm so…confused, why I'm so unsure of myself. I don't know why I feel like anything that hurt Blaine would hurt me just as much. I don't know what's _wrong_ with me."

"There is nothing wrong with you," Sam said, his gaze unwavering. "I don't know anything about…what you're saying – or what I think you're saying. In fact, there are a lot of things I don't know anything about. But I know that there is _nothing_ wrong with you. Do you remember what Queen Vivienne said about your father marrying Lady Carole?" He paused, as if wondering whether he was about to go too far. "'Love does not know boundaries. Love is love.' She's the smartest lady I know."

Love? No, Kurt told himself. That wasn't what it was. He loved Blaine of course, but he didn't _love_ him. He _couldn't_.

"I won't say anything to anyone," Sam said quietly, standing up. "But remember what I said earlier: I'm always on your side. Now eat something, or you'll be sorry later."

"Sam," Kurt said as his friend went to walk away. "…Thank you." The blonde offered him a half-smile before leaving Kurt's side. What Sam had said gave him a lot to think about. But that couldn't be what it was. That simply wasn't how things worked. You were not supposed to feel that way about anyone but the lady you wanted to court and marry, and you definitely weren't supposed to feel that way about a _knight_.

* * *

><p>Kurt sat in the same spot as the hours of darkness ticked on. His food sat untouched until someone came to take it away. It wasn't until morning light had come that he saw someone approaching camp, quickly followed by many others.<p>

"They're here," another person called. Kurt's heart pounded fiercely against his ribcage as they approached the camp. Some men walked, having presumably lost their horses in the siege. Those who came were only a small fraction of those who left.

Kurt made haste to meet them at the edge of camp. Dave was at the head of the group. "We have victory," he said with elation. "We've taken the capital. We've _won_."

"There are so few of you," Kurt said in barely hidden panic, craning his neck to look out over the rest of the company. Almost everyone was scratched and bruised but some men were injured badly enough to warrant being carried on a stretcher. Kurt recognized Arthur's pale form lying in the nearest stretcher, one of his legs a mangled, bloody mess. "Where is everyone else? Have they…I mean, is this everyone?"

"Of course not," Dave said with a scoff. "We've left more than half of our remaining forces at the capital to manage it in our wake." That was a mild relief to Kurt, but he still hadn't seen Blaine. "Some knights leave tomorrow for Lima to bring news of the victory and the survivors; I will stay here to settle things. You will go with them; you'll take the injured as well. Anderson will lead the procession back. As much as I do loathe admitting it, he was invaluable. He saved many men with his bravery."

"Blaine's alive?" Kurt asked hopefully, looking at Dave with wide eyes.

"Of course, what do you take us for?"

"Where is he?"

Dave scoffed again and turned away. "I don't bother herding cats; search for yourself."

The knights slowly filed back into camp and Kurt bounced on his toes as he waited for Blaine to pass. Blaine saw Kurt a moment before Kurt saw Blaine, so his eyes were already fixed on Kurt when the prince looked at him.

Trying to calm the fizzing nerves in his body, Kurt waited patiently until Blaine reached him – he was one of the people walking. "You're hurt," Kurt whispered, eyes drifting to Blaine's arm, which he had tied up in a sling. Blood was seeping through the white cloth.

"Not badly," Blaine said, averting his gaze from Kurt's. "There are others worse off than I am."

"Can I help?" Kurt asked hesitantly.

Blaine was silent for a few long moments. "Yes," he said quietly, his voice softer than a feather. "I…I have first aid things in my tent."

Kurt wordlessly followed Blaine to his tent, doing his best to ignore Sam, who was trying to catch Kurt's eye as they passed him. "Right there," Blaine said, nodding to a kit on the floor once they'd entered his tent. Kurt moved to pick up the kit but Blaine's sharp hiss drew his gaze before he could grab it. "Sorry," Blaine said, pain evident in his voice. "I'm just…I'm…"

"Hurt," Kurt finished for him, leaving the kit for the moment and moving toward Blaine. "Let me." His fingers gently reached for the straps that fastened Blaine's armor to his body. Gently, he undid the buckles and laid the pieces on the floor. Kurt's hands moved to the hem of his chainmail and he delicately lifted it over Blaine's head, taking care to avoid the places he was obviously wounded.

"Thank you," Blaine whispered after Kurt had finished taking everything off of him but his thin shirt.

Kurt silently took up the kit and motioned for Blaine to sit beside him on the bed. Wordlessly, he rolled up Blaine's sleeve over his injury and began to dab at it, cleaning away all the excess blood with a wet rag. "Maybe Fortune listened," Kurt said finally, not looking at Blaine. He put down the rag, took up a length of clean bandage, and began winding it around the wound on Blaine's arm. "You're alive at least."

"Kurt…"

"What?" Kurt looked up from Blaine's arm to his eyes, pausing in his wrapping.

Blaine shook his head after a brief moment of silence. "Nothing."

Kurt looked back down and started to wrap the bandage once more. After a few more minutes of silent first aid, Kurt tied up the bandage and slipped Blaine's arm back into its makeshift sling. "I'm just glad you're alive," Kurt told Blaine.

"I had something keeping me going," Blaine said, smiling at Kurt as he looked up at him. "I couldn't just _die_. I had to fight…for you."

"About the night before you left," Kurt started, running a hand along the back of his neck.

"You don't have to say anything," Blaine was quick to interrupt.

"No, I think I do," Kurt quickly babbled. "Because I was distressed, we've been at war too long even though Dave insists it has been no time at all, and I was worried about you. I was mad at my cousin for putting you in danger, frustrated at myself for not being able to come with you. Blaine…what?"

Kurt's words were cut off as Blaine leaned forward using the quick motions he'd been trained to adopt, and grabbed Kurt's chin with his uninjured hand. He tilted Kurt's face to meet his own. Their lips connected suddenly and Kurt felt his pulse skyrocket. Immediately, every nerve in his body felt raw and exposed. The place where Blaine held onto his chin tingled under his touch and a euphoric buzzing filled Kurt's head.

Kurt's entire body was paralyzed on the spot, unable to react, but his mind was racing. He wanted so badly to reach out and pull their bodies closer together. He didn't want the kiss to end. He didn't want to leave this tent for days. Panicking at the thoughts that were filling his mind, Kurt pulled away hastily, breaking the contact of their lips. Blaine seemed to have had a similar idea, and they backed away almost simultaneously.

They were still for several moments, staring at each other and panting due to their buzzing nerves. Slowly, Blaine raised a hand to his mouth and pressed the pads of his fingers against his lips as if to keep something inside of him. Kurt understood why: his own lips were tingling in a way he had never experienced before.

"I – I'm sorry," he stuttered, backing toward the flap of the tent. Blaine's eyes were wide and shocked and when he removed his hand Kurt could see that his mouth was open in a small gape. He saw that Blaine's lips looked particularly pink and soft and – _no_! He couldn't think like that. "I'm sorry," Kurt repeated, voice breathless. He looked at Blaine a moment longer before he tore his gaze away and made his way to his own tent. The whole way there and long after, Kurt couldn't calm his shaking limbs.

* * *

><p><em>AN: This isn't exactly a fact, hence it being under the author's note, but I just thought I'd clear up any confusion about the last location. There aren't any records of a king in Vilnius at this time. I picked it because it's the current capital and it just SOUNDS like the enemy's place, doesn't it? :D So what was given is by no means an accurate representation of Lithuania at this time. Now on to more important things!_

_Ta da! Our first little hint of undeniably non-platonic Klaineness! :D Don't fear, it is far from over. There will be more in the next chapter. Maybe even MORE more *whistles innocently* I'd love to hear what you think!_


	9. Chapter 9 :: The Way You Look At Me

_A/N: Greetings again everybody! I'm SO glad you all liked the last chapter! Your kind, supportive reviews almost made me die from an overdose of love! So I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! ;)_

_Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Summer, 629 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

"Are you sure you're all right?" Hands tugged and pulled at both Kurt and his clothing. "Oh, you're all bruised up! You're so thin! I'll call Mama right now to get some proper meat and potatoes into you!"

"Mercedes," Kurt said patiently, prying her hands off of him. They had been back at the castle for less than five minutes and she'd already worked herself up into a worried frenzy. "I'm fine. Look at me; I'm walking upright and I'm fully functional. That's more than some people here can say." They had done as Dave had wished and carried the injured knights with them back to Algania. The journey had been hurried and frantic. It had been too busy for Kurt to speak to Blaine again privately, though if truth were to be told he was nervous about being alone with the knight again.

"Go get Medice," Kurt continued, trying to think of anything other than Blaine, who was several feet away speaking calm and reassuring words to Arthur. Arthur Abrams had been one of the most seriously injured and Kurt had wondered multiple times whether he would make it through the journey back. He'd received a shocking wound to his leg which left him completely unable to walk and losing more blood than he could afford. Kurt thought it was a miracle he'd made it back. More than a few times during the long trek, Kurt had snuck into Arthur's tent at night. He would sit there and will the injured knight to make it back to Lima. He would tell him of all the good things that would come to him and of the warmth and comfort waiting back at the court. He would try to make Arthur see that there was a reason to battle through and survive, even if his walking would be severely disabled. "Tell him there are people in dire need of his aid."

Mercedes nodded and ran to fetch the court physician. With no one to talk to and someone to avoid, Kurt quickly went to lead the horses to the stables, where Sam had already gone. Once in the stable, Kurt busied himself with putting away saddles and equipment onto the pegs on the walls. He had grabbed a brush and was about to begin combing down the nearest horse when someone came up from behind him and grabbed it from his hand.

"That would be my job," Sam told him. "You should be speaking to the Queen or your father. Have you seen them yet?"

"No," Kurt admitted reluctantly. The truth was: he was hiding out in the stable. If he went back to the main part of the castle, he'd likely have to pass Blaine and the chances were high that the knight would want to get everything out into the open.

"Well imagine if you were them and you hadn't seen your son or nephew for almost a year," Sam said patiently, beginning to rub the brush along the horse's sides.

"Fine, I'll go." But Kurt stood there for several moments, fiddling with a strap on a saddle.

"Alright, what is it?" Sam asked knowingly. "You've been acting strange the entire trip back. I wasn't going to say anything because you didn't approach me about it first and I was already overstepping my boundaries when I talked to you about you-know-what in the first place. So?"

"So?" Kurt repeated. He was being difficult for the sake of being difficult, and he knew it.

"So you have to get out of this funk somehow and if ranting helps, feel free to go right on ahead with it."

"I don't want to talk about it," Kurt muttered. Under Sam's critical gaze, he rethought his words. "I'm sure I'll feel better being in the castle. Perhaps I've simply been away too long and things are piling up."

"Whatever you say," Sam said lightly. "But if you change your mind, you know where I am. Now go to the castle and talk to your poor family before I have to force you out of here!"

Grumbling, Kurt made his way out of the stables and back to the front of the castle. Blaine wasn't outside and Kurt thought hopefully that he'd wandered into the castle to do something. But as soon as he entered through the main doors, he saw a shadowy figure leaning against the wall.

"I thought I should wait for you to present the news to the queen," Blaine said cautiously.

"Oh, you didn't have to," Kurt said, waving his hands rapidly. "I've been...you know, very busy. Very busy with horses and saddles and…" He stopped talking and cleared his throat.

"I'm sure," said Blaine with a strange smile. "We've already been home half an hour, after all."

To his own horror, Kurt began to chuckle. Soon Blaine was chuckling with him and just like that, the awkwardness Kurt had been feeling – which he now thought he had been imagining – was gone. He was immensely glad for it too; feeling like he had to avoid Blaine had been torturous for the short while it lasted.

As they walked through castle corridors chatting animatedly, Kurt quickly came to the conclusion that they'd seen the kiss in different ways. Blaine obviously hadn't seen it as anything more than friendly. Kurt didn't know why he'd imagined that it could have been something different.

Together, they gave a thorough report of the happenings of the war to Queen Vivienne. They informed her of Dave's intent to stay in Lithuania and get affairs in order. In his stead, she would be acting as a regent. Kurt noted that his aunt was looking a bit healthier than when he had left. The calmer court had been good to her.

"Then we shall celebrate your successful return tonight," she said after Kurt and Blaine had finished with their report, her trademark kind smile in place.

"Not again," Kurt moaned as they left the room together.

Blaine broke out into laughter. "What do you mean again? You haven't missed this? I thought you said you liked being the center of attention."

"I think I've gotten used to the countryside," Kurt said, though he laughed along with Blaine. "But I suppose a court celebration won't be _too_ horrible."

"Oh hush, it'll be wonderful." Blaine grinned at him cheekily. "We're heroes, you know."

"You mean _you're_ a hero," Kurt said, shoving him in the shoulder.

"I said we and I meant we!" Blaine exclaimed, giving Kurt a light shove in return. "You didn't have to go but you did. You didn't have to fight but you did. You didn't have to talk Arthur through the longest nights of the journey home but you did."

"How do you know about that?"

Blaine shrugged but his gaze was sly. "I have my ways."

"You mean you spied!"

"I didn't say what ways they were," he said evasively.

"Oh just shush and go pick something out for tonight," Kurt said with a chuckle. "Preferably the royal red of the Lima court."

"Your wish is my command, Your Highness," Blaine said teasingly, dropping into a mock bow.

Kurt rolled his eyes and walked away from Blaine's immobile form. Could it be that things were really back to normal?

* * *

><p>The festivities were certainly just as normal. Swirling dresses and elegant music, coy ladies and chivalric gentlemen. The wine made Kurt nervous and he made sure to drink extremely sparingly. He was having trouble sinking into his old lifestyle. He'd only danced with Brittany once and that had been because she hinted at him that he should. He hadn't hesitated to pull back and excuse himself when she tried to pull him away into the corridor.<p>

He found himself drawn repeatedly to his aunt's side, where she sat on one of two thrones overlooking the large room. Kurt found that she was extremely interested in stories he had to tell about the journey. He didn't boast of battles they'd won, as Dave would have. Instead, Kurt told her about the little girl who had stopped him as they rode through a northern Alganian village so her bedridden grandmother could see a real Alganian prince once before she died. He told her about the poor farmer who had gotten the wheels of his cart stuck in the mud. They'd spent half a day helping him release it and the farmer insisted on paying them in live chickens. Dave had rolled his eyes and taken them but Kurt had snuck back and returned them to the poor man, saying that it was their duty to help those who were in need of assistance.

She had laughed and gasped and clapped her hands together where it was appropriate, and was an exemplary audience in general. "Kurt, you needn't stay if you don't want to," Queen Vivienne said, at the hour when the court always got considerably less proper and more wild. "You just returned today, no one expects you to be a shining example. I'm sure you're tired."

"A little," he admitted, though that was an understatement. "But I don't want to leave you alone."

"Do I look like I'm alone?" she asked, spreading her hands to indicate all the people. "Really dear, you shouldn't worry about me."

"If you say so," said Kurt gratefully, standing up and kissing her cheek. "I think I will retire early. Thank you, Aunt Vivienne."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt," she said with a kind smile, shooing him to the door. "Sleep well, dear."

He left the room and walked away, the music and voices coming from the room getting fainter with every step – except one. "Running away?"

Kurt smiled and turned around. "That's exactly what I'm doing," he told him with a laugh. "Aren't you tired?" He stopped walking away and half-leaned against the stone wall.

"Exhausted," Blaine replied. "Would you believe me if I said that chasing after you was really my cover for escaping?"

"I'm not sure," Kurt said, amused. "You don't plan on toting me back, then?"

"Never," Blaine said, shaking his head. "Though it really is nice to be back at court." He walked past Kurt and the leaning boy fell into step beside him.

"We can sleep on a bed."

"We can wake up and have Catalina's cooking."

"We don't have to fight unless we want to go out to the practice courts."

"We don't have to wake up at the crack of dawn."

"We don't have to worry about getting killed before we _can_ wake up at the crack of dawn."

"I don't have to worry about you getting hurt anymore," Blaine said, quieter than he had been talking a moment ago.

"Seeing as how you _already_ got hurt," Kurt said, peering at him through the corner of his eye. "I guess I can't say the same thing."

"But I'm alive," Blaine said brightly.

"I would have had a bone to pick with Fortune had you been anything but," Kurt informed him.

"I hope you wouldn't have really done anything so rash if something had happened to me."

"What would you have done?" Blaine's silence was answer enough. "Well luckily, we don't have to fill our time with what-if questions."

"But _what if_ we did?" Blaine asked. When Kurt turned to glare at him, he was already laughing.

"Now you're just being mean," Kurt growled, lurching toward Blaine playfully and attacking him with tickling fingers.

Blaine let out a squeak and tried to restrain Kurt's hands. He took stumbling steps backward until he bumped against the wall. "Torture," he cried out weakly. "This is torture." By the time he managed to grab Kurt's hands, he was weak from laughing. His fingers curled around Kurt's wrists and he held their hands up with a victorious cry, the motion causing their bodies to pull close together.

At first, Kurt didn't notice their proximity. He laughed along with Blaine, his head bowing to rest on Blaine's shoulder. Only the slight jiggling caused by Blaine's continuous chuckles brought him to his realization. Slowly, his laughs faded away, as did Blaine's. Kurt didn't immediately move his head from where it rested on his shoulder.

Instead, he turned his eyes upward to look at Blaine's face. Amber eyes stared down at him and Kurt felt his breath coming in shallow bursts. He was about to lean away but froze when he felt Blaine's hand let go of his wrist and drift toward his face. His fingers gently traced the counter of Kurt's pale cheek. Kurt hardly dared to breathe; his stomach had tied itself in those too-familiar knots and it was struggling to escape the confines of his body.

"Can I ask you a question?" Blaine asked shakily, his hand still on Kurt's cheek.

Kurt paused, trying to breathe properly. "O-of course."

But Blaine didn't ask anything; he just stood there with his amber eyes opened wide. Kurt's eyes were drawn to Blaine's lips as his tongue flicked out briefly to wet his bottom lip, which he then began to worry with his top teeth.

Kurt felt the moment his restraint gave in. He couldn't stay still. He couldn't stand there with his head resting against Blaine. He couldn't feel the touch of him on his cheek without wanting more. He couldn't resist it when his head lifted off Blaine's shoulder and he leaned forward to press their lips together in a scene he'd envisioned countless times since the first time in the tent. It was brief and close-mouthed but Kurt could still feel the softness of Blaine's lips and he was still cognizant of the explosion of emotion wreaking havoc inside of his body.

He pulled away slowly, as he hadn't before. Kurt opened his eyes to see Blaine staring at him strangely. Kurt observed his expression nervously but Blaine didn't run away. In fact, he didn't look at all nonplussed; he appeared exceptionally calm.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Kurt said quietly, eyes never leaving Blaine's.

"Mhmm."

Kurt took a step back and paused. He could feel heat spreading across his cheeks and through his head. He was searching for something else to say but his mind was coming up blank. He was glad he hadn't apologized again but he wanted to say _something_. He found that his insides were having too much of a fit to let his mind work so he turned toward his rooms and walked away from Blaine.

Kurt pressed his hands into his lower abdomen, as if to quell the strange feeling that was circulating there. He didn't know whether he liked it or disliked it. It was certainly foreign, and if it hadn't frightened him so much, he would have been excited by it.

Kurt reached his room and yanked off his shirt quickly before sitting back against his pillows, his breathing labored. He wasn't sure how long he was propped up there, merely looking out into the open space of his room. His mind was far away.

He had been right before, hadn't he? It wasn't possible that Blaine saw him as anything besides a friend, albeit a best friend. Friends did that sort of thing – kissing each other. He saw the people of the court kiss each other's cheeks all the time, and Kurt always kissed Brittany when he greeted her. Of course, he and Brittany had shared other types of kisses, long ones in dark corners and hidden enclaves. But that wasn't the same kind of kiss that he'd had with Blaine…right? They had just kissed as friends.

But their lips had touched, and not even accidentally but _twice_. Why had Kurt shivered when they'd made contact? Why had a tingling sensation erupted in his lower stomach, a sensation that had never come when he'd kissed Brittany but one he figured was the same fizzy feeling Dave said you were supposed to get when you kissed a girl?

Why had he been blushing when he'd pulled away? Why, even now, were his cheeks still heated? Why was he imagining what it would feel like to lie with Blaine, the bare skin of their flat chests pressing together warmly? Why was that wonderful and yet horrible tingling feeling still simmering inside of him?

Physically shaking, Kurt moaned in frustration and buried his head in the pillow, gripping his bedcovers tight to still the trembling of his arms. In spite of his shaking limbs, Kurt was sure his temperature was far above normal. Every time he closed his eyes, taunting and forbidden images played upon the back of his eyelids. He saw sweat-slicked skin and fluid motions, hot breath and yearning moans.

Kurt cursed passionately and sat up in bed. He couldn't do this – he couldn't sleep and he couldn't keep still. He had just walked away from him, but he needed to see Blaine again. He needed to figure out what was happening to him and if it was happening to him alone.

Limbs still shaking, Kurt slipped out of bed and put on a loose, billowing white shirt. Trying to calm his racing mind, he crossed the widespread layout of rooms to reach the door that led into the hall. He swung it inward with more force than he needed to, heart stopping when he almost walked into the person standing just outside.

It was Blaine, still dressed in his red tunic, his hand raised to knock on the door. His mouth was opened in a surprised o-shape, his eyes fixated on Kurt.

Kurt returned his stare. For a few moments that seemed to stretch out forever they were frozen there, gazes interlocked, hardly daring to breathe. Kurt could feel a pressure building in his chest that felt liable to explode at any moment – the summer heat was becoming more stifling than ever.

His rapture finally breaking, Kurt lurched toward Blaine suddenly. At that very same moment, Blaine's reverie had also broken and he moved to Kurt. Kurt buried his hands in the front of Blaine's shirt, grabbing at him roughly and pulling their bodies close together. His hands continued to grip and loosen in the fabric of Blaine's shirt. His breath came in heavy pants. He had drawn their faces close enough so that their foreheads rested on one another and their noses brushed together.

Kurt was pulling Blaine backward, into his room, and together they stumbled through the doorway. Kurt barely had the clearness of mind to shut it in their wake.

Blaine was breathing equally as hard. His hands had risen, as Kurt's did, though unlike Kurt's they didn't stay in one place. They travelled up his arms, over his shoulders, and onto the planes of his back. When they worked their way to one of Kurt's collarbones, the taller boy pivoted their bodies and used his hands to push Blaine back against a wall.

His body followed, pressing up against Blaine's, and this time his lips came as well. Not able to resist any longer, Kurt's head bent and he met Blaine's waiting lips with force. As if time was running out on them, Kurt repeatedly kissed the shorter boy with fervor. He felt Blaine grab either side of his hips, and Kurt gasped into his mouth as Blaine pulled Kurt's hips closely against him.

Kurt drew back for a moment to look Blaine in the eye. The other man's eyes were darkened with desire and lust, lips swollen from Kurt's attack on them. Blaine closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the wall, breathing heavily. "Don't…" he said between breaths. "Don't stop."

Kurt's eyes moved to the long, pale expanse of throat that had been exposed when Blaine leaned his head back. Before he could think twice, Kurt had moved forward to place his lips against the soft underside of Blaine's defined jaw. He trailed his lips along Blaine's jaw and down the line of his neck, stopping at his collarbone and nipping lightly, making Blaine inhale sharply.

The shorter man was still pressed against the wall, head lolling back as Kurt moved over his neck. Blaine's hands had moved upward, tracing over the lean muscles of Kurt's back. Kurt's lips moved upward once again, this time fastening themselves just below Blaine's earlobe. Kurt's warm breath at the side of his face drew a long moan from somewhere deep inside of Blaine.

Suddenly, the shorter boy pushed Kurt away and walked forward a few steps, his pace agitated. He nervously shook his hands out and lifted one to run it over his face. His feet carried him several yards away. Blaine turned around as if to go back to Kurt, but then turned away again and walked to the nearest wall, where he braced his hands against it to steady himself.

When Blaine had pushed away, Kurt fell back against the wall he'd pinned the other boy against. He was shaking again, and there was a warm feeling spreading through his face as well as some lower areas. Through half-closed eyes, he watched as Blaine walked to the opposite wall.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked quietly.

"What am _I_ doing?" Blaine shot back, not turning around. "What are _you_ doing? What are _we_ doing? This is…this is…" He couldn't finish his sentence but it didn't matter – Kurt knew what he was going to say anyways. This wasn't how things worked. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. You were supposed to feel this way about a woman, but there was a process. You were only supposed to do these types of things from your wedding night onward. Of course, Kurt knew that last rule was often broken, but never the first.

Kurt sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall, trying to take deep breaths and calm his buzzing nerves. "I've never," he started, "I mean, I've never been…I've never felt like…I –" He exhaled in frustration, words falling short of what he wanted to express.

"I haven't either," Blaine responded in a whisper. When Kurt opened his eyes again, Blaine was looking at him. The feeling of his gaze made Kurt feel all too aware that his hair was mussed and sticking up at all angles, and his face was probably in ten kinds of conflict and disarray. "What if…what if that isn't a coincidence?"

"What do you mean?" Kurt had leaned off the wall and taken a step toward Blaine, who didn't advance or retreat.

"What if it isn't a coincidence that neither of us has ever felt like this before?" He ran a shaky hand through his dark curls. "What if we're supposed to– What if we were supposed to feel like this…about each other?"

Kurt had stopped in his tracks. It made no sense. Men were not allowed to love each other; it was as simple as that. They were allowed to love a woman, and that was it. Anything else was not allowed. It was a concept believed nationwide and Kurt had never questioned it. But now…

"This isn't how it's supposed to work," Kurt informed him quietly. Brow drawing together slightly, Blaine walked away from where he'd been standing, toward Kurt. "What are you doing?" Kurt watched him nervously; Blaine approached him like a rabbit that would flee should he make any sudden movements.

"Don't move," he whispered quietly, stopping right in front of Kurt. "Don't move – I just want to try something."

Breath shallow and withheld, Kurt held still as Blaine closed the last bit of distance between them. He held still as the shorter boy's head tilted upward, and he pressed their lips together softly. His eyes flicked closed as Blaine's hand rose to the side of his face. Kurt could feel himself getting bogged down by pleasure – by want.

Blaine opened his mouth wider, deepening their slow kiss. His hand moved from the side of Kurt's face to run through the hair at the base of his neck. It cradled Kurt's head as he leaned back slightly, a product of Blaine pressing harder into their drawn out kiss.

He broke away from Kurt just long enough to inhale sharply before claiming his lips again, this time with more urgency. His tongue slipped into Kurt's mouth, tracing the inside edge of his top lip. Kurt gasped and lifted his hands to tighten his hold on the front of Blaine's shirt.

"W-where are you going?" Blaine murmured against his lips as Kurt began to move them toward his bed.

"Shh," Kurt crooned. He lifted a hand to brush away a stray curl and leaned down to linger at Blaine's lips. "You said maybe this is supposed to happen. I say we should find out." His hand reached out to grab Blaine's and their fingers intertwined. Kurt was amazed by the fact that they had held hands so many times before but now it was so, _so_ different.

Kurt led Blaine to his bedroom, stopping periodically to steal a kiss that he could no longer resist. Blaine sat on the edge of his bed, looking apprehensive. Kurt hoped he didn't look as nervous as Blaine did, though he certainly felt it. What was he supposed to _do?_ Resigning himself to fate, Kurt let his body take over.

He straddled Blaine, facing him with one knee on either side of his body. He looked into the other boy's amber eyes to see them watching his own movements with something that was undeniably trust. "Blaine," Kurt whispered, his voice thick. His fingers trailed down the other's chest and taut stomach, stopping at the edge of his crimson shirt.

Kurt tugged up the fabric slightly, in order to make contact with the skin there. Blaine sucked in a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering at Kurt's touch, making Kurt smile. How was it possible that he could make someone have that reaction?

He lowered his head so his lips brushed against the shell of Blaine's small ear. His fingers were working in small, warm circles and patterns on the skin of Blaine's lower abdomen, right above the line of his low pants. "Blaine," Kurt whispered, his hot breathe sending shivers through the other boy. His tongue flicked out and traced its way lightly down the shell of Blaine's ear, from the tip to the lobe. When he reached the lobe, Kurt's lips pressed against the skin there before his teeth reached out and scraped along it gently, making Blaine moan again. "What…what do you –?"

"Kurt," Blaine said quickly, hands reaching out to pull their bodies closer. He leaned into the other boy's caresses, arching his back as one of Kurt's hands travelled to the small of his back and pushed them together.

"Kurt," he repeated breathlessly. The taller boy broke away from Blaine's neck to look into his eyes, which were looking at him with something that could only be called hunger. "I need you. I just – I don't know. I just…"

Blaine arched forward again. Their lips met with heated passion and Kurt pushed Blaine onto the bed so they were both lying flat. His lips still moving against Blaine's, Kurt ran his hands over the strip of skin at Blaine's waist again, this time lifting the edge of his shirt father and father up until he finally had to break away from Blaine's lips to get it off of him entirely.

He tossed it to the side of the bed and his hands returned to the bare skin of Blaine's chest. He trailed his hands up the carved planes that made up Blaine's abdomen – over his chest and shoulders until they tangled themselves in Blaine's ebony curls. Kurt felt Blaine shift under him, his hips arching upward into Kurt's.

Kurt let out a small, breathless gasp as he felt Blaine's hardness press up against his own, and he felt a new surge of heat travel downwards. Suddenly feeling overwhelmingly overheated and slightly panicked, Kurt sat up and struggled to remove his own stifling shirt. His trembling hands could hardly complete the task, and he felt Blaine gently reach to help him slide the shirt over his head.

Kurt brushed a hand over his flushed and sweating forehead. Blaine reached out to run his hands over Kurt's bare skin, making the taller boy's skin tingle as if every touch was fire. Blaine leaned in, breathing ragged as he kissed Kurt softly. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine and held him tightly, their bare chests pressed together closely even after Blaine had broken away and buried his face into the curve made by Kurt's neck and shoulder.

"I don't know what to do," Blaine whispered tragically, holding Kurt tightly.

Kurt was silent for a moment, his hands working in reassuring circles against Blaine's back. "I don't either," he confessed, his voice trembling.

"I just know," Blaine continued shakily, "that _this_ can't be wrong. Feeling this way about someone can't be wrong, no matter whom that other person may be."

"Perhaps we should just…take it slow?" Kurt offered. Taking it slow was the last thing he wanted to do but the problem was that he didn't know what to do about it. He didn't know how to not take it slow because truth be told, he didn't know anything at all. Having these sorts of feelings for another man wasn't something life had prepared him for and Kurt didn't know what to make of his situation. "Now that we know…well, now that we know how we feel…about each other…we can just take things as they come: step by step." Kurt's speech had come faltering and halted; he needlessly second-guessed everything he said.

"I agree," Blaine whispered, shifting his head so his cheek pressed against Kurt's bare shoulder. "Do you think that other people would understand?"

Kurt hesitated. "No," he admitted reluctantly, remembering his fear of Santana seeing him and Blaine holding hands. He held Blaine tighter and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Maybe we should just be quiet about this, for now. I don't think my father or Aunt Vivienne would have a qualm, but…I can't speak for my cousin."

Kurt felt Blaine draw back from his tight grip. The other boy raised a hand to brush Kurt's damp bangs away from his forehead. "We won't tell anyone then," he agreed. He smiled feebly and Kurt tried to reciprocate.

"Can you stay here tonight?" Kurt asked, tightening his grip on Blaine's hand as he moved to leave. His request sounded horribly pathetic, even to his own ears.

Blaine smiled genuinely and settled back down. "Since you're asking me with no toxic northern drink in your veins," he teased lightly. Kurt blushed, remembering what he was talking about. "I'm glad you asked."

He shifted back on the bed and Kurt laid back against him, curling up against Blaine's side. He felt Blaine's arm encircle his back and Kurt's arm snaked across Blaine's waist so he was holding the other boy to him.

For a long time, Kurt laid awake. Blaine's breathing transitioned into the deep sounds of sleep. Kurt sat up slightly and turned his head just enough to look at Blaine's peaceful, sleeping face. He smiled; Blaine's long eyelashes fluttered every now and then, and his mouth was open slightly.

Feeling truly content for the first time in many years, Kurt rested his head gently against the crook of Blaine's shoulder and fell into his own peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So, this was supposed to be THE chapter. Literally, all the while I was typing, until the very moment Blaine said that he didn't know what to do, things were going to go all the way. I do hope it doesn't make people frustrated that it didn't happen; I just sort of imagined if I was them, in that scary unknown swirl of feelings...really, they probably wouldn't know how to go about anything more than what happened here. At first that is - give them a little time to experiment ;)_

_I hope you all liked this installment and I'd love to hear what you think! Thanks so much for reading :3_


	10. Chapter 10 :: The Only One I See

_A/N: Hello again lovely readers! First of all, I'm so sorry for the icky wait for this chapter. Between work, looking after my little siblings, and the temptation of the warm California sun, pulling me away from the indoors, I haven't been able to find a ton of time to write. But I'm flattered that you guys were so anxious for another chapter! It makes me want to toddle along and write faster for you all, truly! :3_

_As a little side note: some of you might have noticed with the publication of this chapter but there is a trend starting with the chapter names if you look at that of last chapter and this one - think about it! I'll just tease a little bit by saying that at the end of the theme (and if you pick it up, you'll know what I mean) something special might happen! :)_

_Now I've talked enough! Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Summer, 629 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

A ray of early morning light filtered through Kurt's window and into the line of his eyes. Sighing at his own absentmindedness, he realized that he must have forgotten to shut his curtains the night before. He rolled over onto his other side to avoid the light and started when his skin made contact with another warm body. Kurt's eyes flew open in shock before the events of the previous night came back to him and he remembered who it was.

Blaine was splayed out on his back with his limbs scattered haphazardly. Kurt almost giggled at how disarrayed he was in the throes of sleep. His mouth was hanging open slightly and his curls were sticking out in all directions.

For a long while, Kurt kept still and looked at Blaine. His heart was fluttering lightly in his chest – this was happening, not in a dream but in _real life_. Kurt didn't want to think on the _how_ of it all because he still couldn't make heads or tails of it. Some of the best things were those that were difficult to figure out, Kurt told himself, so why bother on the how when he could enjoy the what?

That thought in mind, Kurt snuggled in closer to Blaine's side. He could lay there, pressed up against Blaine, forever and never get bored. Part of him couldn't believe that this had happened at all. How was it possible that both he and Blaine felt the same way at once? It was almost too good to be true. After all the times they'd been separated and the many years spent apart, Blaine was still lying in the bed next to him.

Acting on a whim, Kurt gently extracted himself from the tangled sheets so as to not wake Blaine. He searched until he found the shirt he'd cast aside the night before and slipped it over his head. Without taking time to get his appearance in order, he slipped out of the door. He had been able to tell from the morning light that it was still early; not many people would be up and about to see him.

He practically skipped down to the ground floor of the castle – he was suddenly feeling elated with his situation in the world. He'd never felt like this before and it was a wonderful feeling to have; it was like he was flying, or floating weightless on the clouds.

Light as air, he drifted through the kitchens and into the gardens. He flitted back and forth between arrangements, bending his head to examine the various flowers that were in full summer bloom. Kurt picked a select few; spirits high, he practically skipped back to the door to the kitchen, tucking a glowing, pink Carolina Rose behind his ear as he went.

The kitchens weren't crowded; he hadn't met anyone on his way out but now he saw Catalina in the corner, chopping vegetables. He hopped over to her side and leaned against the counter next to her. When she turned around to look at him, he grinned in what he hoped was an adorable fashion and leaned in toward her.

"I know that look," Catalina said with a sideways smile. "What can I get for you, Prince Kurt?"

"Two breakfast trays that I can take on the run?" Kurt asked pleasantly.

Catalina raised an eyebrow and gave him a questioning look. "Two?" she asked. "On the run? Not taking these back up to your rooms, are you, love?" He saw her eyes flick up to the pink flower behind his ear.

Kurt didn't answer her; he merely smiled in a placid, noncommittal fashion.

Catalina leveled her critical gaze at Kurt for a moment longer before turning to put something together for him. "Well I can't imagine _why_ you're eating two breakfasts, or why you currently look as if you were raised in a flower patch." She turned to him and placed a tray into his hands. Her examining gaze turned into a soft look, one that an affectionate aunt might give her favorite nephew. "But I won't tell anyone, either way."

Kurt gave her a delicate smile. "Thank you," he said quietly. Before leaving, he placed a soft kiss against her cheek. Catalina patted his shoulder as he stood up straight. "Dinner was wonderful last night, by the way," he added as he scurried through the door.

Extremely satisfied by how his surprise had turned out, Kurt started to walk back to his rooms with a spring in his step. Blaine would wake up after he got there, hopefully, and they could have breakfast together in his room. The pessimistic voice in the back of Kurt's head said that Blaine might feel differently when he woke up. He might take back everything he had said the night before; he might regret everything he'd done – everything _they'd_ done.

Then there was the _other_ voice that said that Kurt was only thinking these things in the first place because he dreaded any of them happening. That alone was enough to set him on edge. He really and truly cared about his relationship with Blaine…if it could be called that.

Kurt paused and closed his eyes briefly as he scaled the stairs. Once again he was overanalyzing every little thought that entered his head. He needed to take what happened to come as it came.

Just as that thought entered his head, a voice called out from behind him.

"Kurt!"

The prince turned, using his body to partially obscure what he was carrying: the tray and flowers. "Oh…Finn," Kurt remarked, still edging along the corridor. "W-what can I help you with?"

"You were skipping," Finn said in a strange voice, "all through that last corridor. Do you have something sharp in your shoes or something?"

"No, Finn," Kurt said patiently. A goofy smile slid onto his face as he thought of who waited for him back in his room. "But I am going somewhere, so if you'll just –"

"You look like you're just heading to your room," Finn said curiously, craning to peak behind Kurt's back.

"I…well, I….uh." Kurt cleared his throat and tried to look less giddy.

"You have a flower behind your ear," Finn continued, reaching out to touch the pink petals delicately.

"That's quite observant; I'm glad you can identify the local flora," Kurt said dryly.

Finn took a step back and raised an eyebrow. "You're keeping a secret," he said smugly. "I can tell. You're acting different. The skipping and weird smiles; the flower behind your ear and whatever you're holding behind your back. I'll just wait for you to come out with it at your own pace, then."

"Well," Kurt said quietly. "If that's it, I'll just…go." He edged back around and began to walk away. Suddenly, his steps faltered. "Finn?" he asked quietly without turning around.

"Yes, Kurt?"

"Have you ever…had someone you really liked?"

Finn was slow to reply. "…Yes."

Kurt nodded. "How do you know if it's real?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how is it supposed to feel when you have finally found someone that…that you've been looking for forever?" Kurt was still facing away from his stepbrother. He smiled down at the flowers in his hand, picturing the moment when Blaine woke up to see them there.

"I don't think I'm the right person to answer that," Finn told him. "I think that's different than really liking someone; I don't think I've found…_the_ one yet. Is that what you mean?"

"I'm just talking out loud," Kurt said quickly. "I'll be around later."

"Kurt," Finn called as Kurt walked away. "It's good to have you back."

Kurt nodded as he continued to walk; both of his hands were full. He didn't know why he had been driven to ask that of Finn; the words had almost burst out of him and now he almost felt foolish. Finn would probably try to make something of his words, too. He told himself for what he thought must have been the hundredth time that his mind was working overtime.

Nevertheless, he continued to ponder all the way back to his room. Kurt entered quietly through the door.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice came hesitantly from the next room.

Kurt's face fell. "You're awake," he said, disappointed. He entered into the bedroom.

Blaine's sharp eyes quickly surveyed Kurt's handful. A moment later, the corner of his lips turned upward in a smile. "Sorry?" he said, the word getting higher at the end as if it were a question. Kurt noted that he looked freshly awake. He was still shirtless and he had lines across his face as if it had been recently squished up against a pillow. "You look like you've been productive."

"Oh, I have!" Kurt exclaimed. "I just ran downstairs for…for some things."

"Some things for me?" Blaine asked knowingly, his amber eyes twinkling.

"Maybe it was silly," Kurt said quickly, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "M-maybe I was…maybe I…" His voice faded out as he set the tray down on the nearest countertop. Feeling the sudden urge to hold something in, he crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

Carefully, Blaine got off of Kurt's bed and approached the prince. They were close together when he stopped. Wordlessly, he reached out gentle hands to loosen Kurt's grip around his own middle. Kurt was wary as Blaine pried apart his arms.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, the huskiness of his voice surprising himself.

"You ask that too often," Blaine informed him. In place of where Kurt's arms had been, Blaine's own arms wrapped around Kurt's torso. After a hesitant moment, Kurt relaxed into Blaine's embrace. "And you worry too much," Blaine added.

"I don't think that's possible," Kurt said. "It's better to worry too much."

"It's better to just have faith in something," Blaine said, looking up into Kurt's blue eyes. "Don't you think?"

Kurt paused, hardly daring to breathe. "I guess so," he said slowly.

After another quiet moment had passed, Blaine lifted a hand to brush Kurt's pale cheek lightly with his fingertips. "Can I ask you a question?"

"A real one this time?" Kurt asked with a hesitant grin. "I think you just did…but since I'm in a generous mood, go ahead."

"You aren't running away right now."

Kurt tilted his head slightly. "That's not a question, Blaine. But no, I'm not…and I don't really intend to. I – I mean, that is, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Blaine said quickly. "And the question's still coming. If you aren't running away and I don't want you to run away, then what does that make…_this?_"

Kurt searched for an appropriate answer. "It makes it whatever we want it to be," he replied with more confidence. Now that Blaine was in front of him, holding him, his doubts as to what might happen had dissipated like smoke in the wind. "You know…I'm tired of doing things because I think they're what people would want for me – my father, my aunt, my cousin. I'm tired of living for everyone else. Just for once, I want something that makes me happy for nothing more than the sake of my happiness." Kurt paused. "Does that even make sense?"

"No," Blaine said with a chuckle.

"If instead I said that I just want to be with you forever…no matter the consequences…does that make sense?" Kurt asked, his blue eyes hopeful.

"Now that," said Blaine in a whisper, "makes perfect sense." For the first time, his eyes flicked over the pink flower tucked behind Kurt's ear. "That's a nice touch," he said, hand lifting to graze the pink petals gently. "You did tell me that you'd put flowers back in fashion."

A bubble of ecstatic emotion rose within Kurt at Blaine's words, propelling him forward until their lips pressed together. In the light of the day, when Kurt was fully awake, it was even more glorious to be kissing Blaine than it had been during the night. That mid-flight feeling soared through his veins once more, making Kurt feel like he would start to levitate at any moment.

Simply being near Blaine made Kurt feel like nothing in the world could go wrong, so when they pulled away a fraction, Kurt's face lit up in a smile. "What?" Blaine whispered, that familiar secret smile twisting its way onto his face. "Do I have morning breath or something?"

"No," Kurt said with a small chuckle. "Well, it _is_ the morning, so…but I don't mean that it's bad! You could have worse morning breath than a troll and I'd still –" Kurt paused in his ramblings to mentally scold himself. "That sounded a lot less strange in my head, you know."

"I'll bet," Blaine said, not able to hide his laughter. Instead, he turned his face inward so that it rested on the indent of Kurt's shoulder.

"I was just thinking," Kurt continued with a shrug. "I – I don't think this is normal…per se. But I can't imagine it any other way…I can't imagine wanting things a different way."

"Would you stop thinking so hard about things?" Blaine asked with a good natured laugh. "You can say no to what is supposed to be right and instead wrong things as many times as you want but what differences will it make?" He moved his head up and caught Kurt's blue eyes with his amber ones. "Either way, you'll have me."

Blaine had hit the allegorical nail on the head, in Kurt's opinion. He didn't know why he was second and triple guessing himself. He'd told himself to stop numerous times but his mind kept jumping back to over analysis as if it were a preset tendency.

"So," Blaine said, his eyes cutting sideways. "Why did you venture downstairs? And might I ask what's under the cover on that tray?"

"You might," Kurt responded, his eyes twinkling as he drew away from Blaine and slid the cover off the tray. "I thought we might want to…stay in." Kurt attempted to look guiltless as Blaine arched a questioning eyebrow. "You hear about people doing romantic things like that; I thought I might as well give it a go." He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. "I even risked prosecution by picking flowers from the Queen's Garden."

"How brave," Blaine said, picking a matching Carolina Rose out of the small bouquet and tucking it behind his own ear. He slipped a hand into Kurt's and laced their fingers together. "Is it just for decoration?"

A moment later, Kurt had yanked a blanket off his bed and spread it on the floor. He and Blaine settled down on it as if at a picnic, with Catalina's tray between them.

"Well, it isn't war rations," Blaine said with a chuckle.

"Good Lord, no," Kurt agreed. "After getting back yesterday, all Mercedes would talk about was how I was only skin and bones. I reckon she passed on the word to Catalina, who's taking this opportunity to get me back to pre-war weight."

"Well," said Blaine mischievously. "You are rather bony at the moment." Kurt gasped in indignation. "You kick around in your sleep, by the way. I think I might have bruises…"

"That you shall treasure highly until they fade," Kurt finished for him. He picked a grape from the newly harvested cluster Catalina had stuck in with the breakfast. "Catch?"

Blaine opened his mouth. A moment later, Kurt tossed the grape. Blaine hardly had to move to catch it in his mouth. "You should know," Blaine said as he swallowed the grape, "that I never lose this game."

"Oh, really?" Smiling widely, Kurt grabbed another grape and placed it half between his teeth. "Catch?" he asked the question around the small, round fruit.

Returning the smile, Blaine got to his knees and inched toward Kurt. He draped a leg over Kurt's and faced the other man as he straddled his waist. With teasing slowness, Blaine's arms snaked out and encircled Kurt's neck. He inched forward until their chests were pressed together, and very slowly, he reached out to bite off the other half of the grape that was in Kurt's mouth. Their lips pressed together during the action and Kurt was disappointed when Blaine pulled away and he was left to eat the grape half that remained.

But he hadn't gone far. He was still all but sitting in Kurt's lap and the prince could already feel the front of his breeches suddenly getting uncomfortably tight and confining. The way Blaine was staring at him wasn't helping – examining him as if it might be the last moment they saw each other and he had to memorize every plane of his face. It made Kurt want to latch onto the knight and never loosen his grip.

Just as he was about to act on the urge in some manner, a sharp knocking came from the door. An electric buzz of shock shot out under Kurt's skin, literally and figuratively deflating any desires he had a moment before. Blaine scrambled off of him and they both shot to their feet.

"Kurt?" A voice called from outside the door. Kurt immediately recognized it as his father.

"What do I do?" Blaine whispered frantically. "I can't get out, should I…should I hide?" His hands reached out and grabbed both of Kurt's.

Kurt looked around quickly and squeezed Blaine's hands reassuringly. "Under the bed," he finally whispered, gently pushing Blaine toward the space under his bedframe.

"Kurt, are you alright?" his father called once more. "I'm coming in."

"What if there are spiders down there?" Blaine whined irrationally as he got onto his knees and lifted up the bed spread to peek into the darkness below.

"_Blaine!_" Kurt hissed in quiet indignation. Without waiting for another word, he bodily shoved Blaine under the bed and yanked down the blankets so that he'd be well and hidden. He barely had time to straighten up before his father entered the room, a small frown upon his lips. Kurt closed his eyes briefly and prayed to the forces that be that if Blaine _did_ encounter a lounging arachnid, he had enough good sense to keep quiet.

"Are you alright?" Duke Burton inquired, worry evident in his voice.

"Yes, yes," Kurt scrambled to say. He stood fully and attempted to look nonchalant. "W-why do you ask?"

"I ran into Finn this morning, not long ago," Kurt's father continued, looking around shiftily. "He was acting awfully…odd. When I inquired as to what was on his mind, he mumbled your name and then scurried away from me, looking shocked that he'd spoken at all." Burton raised an eyebrow. "Any idea what that was about?"

"No," Kurt answered, altogether too quickly. He smiled winningly at his father. "I'm just peachy – completely spiffy, thanks for worrying. Now if you'll just –" He pushed his father toward the door but Burton slid out of his grasp, still looking at Kurt with caution.

"Why so eager?" Kurt's father inquired. At that moment, his eyes flickered over toward the breakfast tray. Kurt's stomach sank in his chest as he saw that the two plates were obviously displayed. "Hungry?" Burton asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Kurt answered quietly, thinking rapidly. "We don't get much food on the road, you know that. Catalina didn't want me to walk off with one of her large platters so she gave me two smaller ones. I already lost one of her cups before I left; I don't think she trusts me anymore."

Kurt's father raised an eyebrow but didn't provide another argument. Kurt noticed that his eyes also traveled up to the spot where Kurt knew he had forgotten to remove the flower from behind his ear, but Burton didn't comment on that, either. "Well, whatever you say," he said easily, stepping toward the door once more. Kurt was a little too eager to see him on his way. "Finn did seem concerned, though. Perhaps you should reassure him that you're doing well. You know, it _has_ been almost a year since we've seen you. I hardly recognized you when you got back." He reached the door and turned around, back toward Kurt. His face, usually proper and careful arranged into diplomatic impartiality, broke into a wide grin. "But I cannot tell you how good it is to see you back safely, son."

"Oh, father," Kurt said softly, taking the pat on the shoulder with a smile that was almost bashful. "Thank you." Thankfully, Burton didn't seem to have anything else to say; he turned and truly left.

Kurt shut the door quickly in his wake and ran over to his bedside to lift up the blankets. He peered under the bed. Blaine was lying flat on his stomach in the darkness, looking so silly that Kurt couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight of him.

"Do _not_ laugh," Blaine warned him, even though he was close to laughter himself. "Kurt, that was a really close call!" He wriggled out from under the bed and stood up as he brushed off the dust that clung to the skin of his still bare chest. The matching flower was still behind his ear, though a petal or two had fallen out in his scramble, and several others were bent.

"Don't I know it," Kurt agreed, "Mister what-if-there-are-spiders?" Blaine flushed. "Tell me, how is it possible that one of the best knights Algania has ever seen is afraid of spiders?"

"That…is beside the point," Blaine said with a guilty smile. He ran a hand along the back of his neck. "The point is –"

"That it was a close call," Kurt completed, stepping up to Blaine and wrapping his arms around the other boy. "I heard you the first time. It doesn't…change anything…does it?"

"Well, no," Blaine said, raising a hand to run it through Kurt's hair lightly. "But what you said about people not understanding…if that's true, things can't get closer than they did just now."

"No, they can't," Kurt agreed, bending his head to rest it on Blaine's shoulder. But Blaine had already said that it didn't mean anything would be different… "So what do you want to do?"

"Come away with me," Blaine said suddenly, gripping Kurt's shoulders strongly and pulling away slightly. Kurt could see that his eyes had lit up with an excited gleam and an eager smile played upon his lips.

"I…Blaine, you know I can't do that," Kurt said haltingly, looking sideways. "I have a duty to uphold here. After King Paul died, I became next in line for the throne after Dave…you know I can't just run away…as much as I might want to."

"But it doesn't have to be forever," Blaine continued eagerly. "King Dave isn't here right now either, Queen Vivienne is ruling in his stead. We could just leave for a few months! Come with me to Westerville! It's small enough there, we wouldn't be put in situations like this." Blaine paused and his gaze grew a bit more serious. "I want to walk hand in hand with you through the gardens; I want to dance with you at night."

"And we could do that at Westerville?" Kurt asked skeptically. Really, he would give everything to be able to lie among the flowers in the royal gardens for a day with Blaine, talking all day, free to lean over and kiss him whenever he wanted to; he would give anything to be able to dance with Blaine instead of Brittany.

"Well, maybe not that last one," Blaine said, but he wasn't deterred from his overall mission. "But everyone is watching you here at court, all the time. No one would be watching us at Westerville; we'd be free to do whatever we want. We could ride out of town with a picnic and spend a day by the lake." He stopped, looking hopeful.

Kurt was still hesitant. "Don't you think it would look a little strange, you and I riding out alone to Westerville?"

"Thinking up a story would hardly be difficult," Blaine insisted. As if to sway Kurt's decision, he dipped his head toward Kurt's, pressing their lips together firmly and only drawing away fractionally, so that their lips still danced off of one another's when he spoke. "I grew up there; it will hardly be strange that I want to visit after returning from war."

"What about me?" Kurt asked, a smile playing upon his lips in spite of himself; his resolve was crumbling and Blaine could tell.

As if confident in his victory, Blaine smiled elatedly. He bounced on the balls of his feet and pressed his lips to Kurt's more than a few times in his excitement. "I am fully confident in your ability to think of something," Blaine told him, squeezing Kurt tighter.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Kurt complained pessimistically, shaking his head.

"You didn't take very much convincing," Blaine told him, grinning mischievously. "I was almost ready to beg."

Now _that_ was interesting, and Kurt was sure that he didn't know exactly what Blaine meant, though his too-innocent expression was a good indicator. "Oh, were you now?" Kurt asked him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure that I have no idea what you mean." He paused. "You know, you could still always just _show_ me."

"I think maybe I will," Blaine said, bringing his fingers to trail lightly across Kurt's jawline as he softly kissed the corner of his mouth. He tugged on the loose fabric of Kurt's shirt and with a soft "oof!" they landed together on the sheets once more.

* * *

><p><span>Fun Fact:<span> So, I know I said these would have to do with history but they're kind of becoming all inclusive. I try to include little symbolic snippets or minute details in almost every chapter (including carrying themes over - I'm sure you noticed that Blaine says the same things over and over again, and they say little things reminiscent of what the actors have said). The one for this chapter was the Carolina Rose, which may have caught your attention because of how specific it was. It would hardly be native to a made-up land in between France and Germany, but after looking at hundreds and hundreds of flowers, I realized that no other flower would work for me. The symbolism of that specific rose was just too perfect: a Carolina Rose means "dangerous love" - make of it what you will! ;)


	11. Chapter 11 :: Very, Very Extraordinary

_A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for returning to read, and sorry about the wait for this chapter! I meant to get it out a few days ago but the HP7pt2 premier reduced me to a blubbering mess that was unable to proofread. But anyways, here you go!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Summer, 629 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

"And you want to go…on a tour of the countryside…to make contact with the Alganian citizens?" Queen Vivienne leveled a suspicious gaze at Kurt as he stood in front of her with an agenda-less expression.

"That's right," he replied calmly. His hands were linked in front of his body and he stood ramrod straight, at attention.

The queen raised an elegant, perfectly arched brow. Kurt knew that she was suspicious; they were alone, and he was hardly ever this serious with her, even when they _were _surrounded by other courtiers. "You never seemed to have the desire to do such a thing before."

Kurt already knew what he was going to say. He and Blaine had scripted everything out earlier that day. "I've been thinking a lot since I got back from Lithuania," he said on cue. "War makes you see things from a different point of view." Technically, he wasn't even lying. Kurt really did have an interest in going on a tour of the countryside. He just had an agenda to be filled, and a more immediate interest that demanded his attention first. "Especially one that…well." Kurt cleared his throat and looked at his aunt briefly before looking away. _Especially one that wasn't founded._ He saw the queen's face sober immediately. Kurt knew how his aunt felt about her son's war.

"Well then," she said slowly. "I think it's a wonderful idea. I do, of course, hate to see you leave again so soon. However, judging by the stories you told me the night you got back, you are quite good with the people of the country. I think that a trip among them, to get to understand them, might be just the thing both of you need. You've never been outside of Lima, have you, Kurt?"

"Except the path we traveled on the road north to Vilnius," Kurt said, "no, I haven't."

Queen Vivienne adopted a kind, excited smile. "Then of course you have my permission to go," she said with a nod of her head. "I only wish that David was here. He could do with getting to know his own people." She paused and Kurt got the sinking feeling that she was about to say something treasonous. He was immensely glad that they were alone at the moment, but he couldn't shake the feeling that one day his aunt would say something that would land her in too much trouble to get out of. "Sometimes, I wish my son were more like you, dear." She folded her hands in her lap and didn't look up at her nephew.

Kurt was struck dumb for several moments. "Dave is a very…fierce king," he said finally, choosing his words carefully. "We had fully conquered Lithuania in less than a year. If someone had told me we would do such a thing before it had actually happened, I'd have labeled them insane."

"Ah, Kurt," his aunt said with a shake of her head. "Fierce and _good_ are hardly ever synonyms, and you know it."

The nineteen year old prince hardly knew how to respond to that, so he simply bowed his head, murmured another thank you, and began to back toward the door.

"One moment." The queen's voice was sharp and when Kurt looked up, he saw that her eyes were glinting with an unidentifiable emotion; it could have been anything from indulgence to severity. "Just the other day, Blaine Anderson of Westerville asked my permission to take a brief leave from the royal court to visit his father and hometown." Kurt's stomach swooped unpleasantly, though his face remained impassive. "Knowing what it was like to have a child fighting in a war, I immediately acquiesced." She paused, intelligent eyes still scrutinizing him with that unreadable emotion. "Since you have never been out of the capital city, let alone by yourself, I believe it would be wise for you to have a guard, don't you?"

Kurt was silent for a moment as his mouth gaped like a fish out of water. He was half convinced that she was asking him a trick question, but he quickly regained his mindset. "Y…yes?"

His aunt's face regained its usual smile once more. She appeared to be satisfied with his answer. "Good. Seeing as this is your first journey of the sort, you'll go as far as Westerville. If it proceeds well and you are able to extend the royal hand to the people in the towns along the way, you can travel in other directions on other trips. Blaine will accompany you to Westerville." Her eyes twinkled. "I have the utmost faith in him and I believe he is more than capable for the job. Besides, I have seen how deeply your friendship runs."

Kurt froze completely, his eyes wide. Surely she couldn't mean…but of course his aunt must have simply been speaking in an offhand manner. She couldn't know how deeply their "friendship" _really_ extended…could she? If he was judging by her twinkling eyes alone he would have said that she might. But she appeared so relaxed, and her speech had been given so lightly and casually that it couldn't be possible.

The young prince barely refrained from heaving a sigh. So she didn't know…it was for the best. Kurt tried to suffocate the little – or not so little – piece of himself that would have been relieved if he had been able to talk freely of his forbidden passion with his kind, gentle aunt. It was a treacherous part of his mind, one that would likely get him in trouble one day if he couldn't keep it in check.

"That…seems perfectly manageable," Kurt finally struggled to get out.

"Wonderful!" Queen Vivienne exclaimed, turning her attention back to the stack of papers she had been occupied with before Kurt interrupted her in her study. "You may leave whenever you wish, though I would think it wise to be in Westerville before the winter sets in."

"I couldn't agree more," Kurt said, barely able to contain his glee. He could hardly believe that everything had worked out so perfectly; Blaine's plan had gone off without a single bump in the road so far. It had not only worked, as a matter of fact, but his aunt had even assisted their plans – Kurt was still left to ponder whether she knew what she had done or not.

"Thank you, Aunt Vivienne," Kurt turned for the door but paused in its frame. Instead of exiting, he ran back to his aunt's desk, hugged her tightly, and kissed her cheek.

"Oh and Kurt?" She didn't look up from her papers as she spoke but Kurt would have sworn that he saw the corner of her lips tipping up in an even wider smile. "Do feel free to stay as long as you desire. Lord knows you need a vacation."

* * *

><p>"You're <em>what<em>?" Sam asked, shock written across his features as Kurt flitted about his room, stuffing things into a travel bag.

"Going on a sort of tour," Kurt repeated, "to visit people in the country. I should be back in a few months."

Sam looked suspicious. "Really? That's…that's _it?_"

Kurt's cheeks flamed and he turned his face away from Sam as he shoved warm tunics and cloaks into his bag – he fully intended on spending the winter at Westerville. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam didn't immediately answer but Kurt could feel him move closer. "You know that you can tell me anything," Sam said quietly, laying a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "_Anything_ at all, you just have to say it."

"Sam," Kurt whispered, pausing in his packing. He reached up his hand to lay it over his friend's. "I…I – yes, that's it. It's about time I did such a thing."

Kurt could hear Sam sigh in disappointment, and the blonde withdrew his hand rapidly. "I thought you might have trusted me," Sam said sadly. "I thought that our friendship meant something to you. I thought that I was worth more to you than a bunch of shallow avoidances of a truth which I have _already_ aided you towards…but I guess I was wrong."

"Sam," Kurt protested hotly as Sam began to walk away. He was leaving almost immediately with Blaine; he didn't have time to repair this argument with someone being as unmanageable as Kurt thought Sam to be.

"Don't bother," Sam shot back at him, opening the door with more force than necessary. "I wouldn't want you to tire yourself out by thinking of another excuse to give. I'm sure you have a lot to do." He stepped through the door and hesitated, as if he had ran into someone outside, and then glanced back at Kurt sharply. "_Much_ more important things to do; I'll just lie to Mercedes and tell her you said goodbye then."

Kurt stared after Sam in shock as the blonde walked past Blaine, who he had bumped into when he opened the door. Blaine looked out after Sam's retreating figure with concern. "Is Sam alright?" Blaine asked. "He sounded…strange."

"Goodness knows," Kurt said, returning to tossing things in his bag, with more force now. "I'm sure I could think of a million things wrong at the moment."

"Are you being exactly fair to him?" Blaine asked, raising a questioning, triangular brow.

"As fair as he deserves," Kurt grumbled.

Blaine made a sound of protest and approached Kurt, wrapping his arms around the taller boy's waist and holding him against his chest. "Blaine," Kurt protested, wriggling in his grasp. "The door's open; someone might see."

"Mmm, I don't care," Blaine mumbled, pressing hot lips to Kurt's soft expanse of neck.

"_Blaine_," Kurt said with more urgency, twisting out of Blaine's grasp and looking at him sternly. "You would care if someone walked by; you're just being silly."

"You're right, of course," Blaine conceded, running a hand through his curls. "But I hardly think it can be considered my fault that I can't keep my hands off of you. It's taken – what? – more than ten years for this to happen. I need to make up for lost time." Kurt's stern gaze faded into a dreamy smile. "Are you ready to go?"

"Just about," Kurt said, pulling the strings and cinching down the crimp on his last bag. He grabbed his bags and turned to face Blaine, who had backed away a few feet. "Do you…I mean, you still think that this will work out?"

Blaine reached out and brushed Kurt's hand with his fingertips gently before drawing his hand away quickly. "I'm positive," he vowed. "Anyway, all I want is to be with you without jumping at shadows – at least for a while, until we figure this out. Come on, our horses are all ready to go, and my things are already with them."

Kurt smiled and nodded, following Blaine out of the room. Suddenly, he cried out in exclamation and ran back to his room, babbling about something he'd forgotten. A moment later he emerged from his room again, rubbing his golden coronet against the edge of his tunic to give it a bit of a shine. "I need to look as official as I can in traveling clothes," he said, perching the crown on his head. "People need to know who I am, that's what this is supposed to be about…at least, what everyone else thinks it's supposed to be about."

Blaine looked concerned as they reached their horses, waiting at the outer gate. "You don't think that's dangerous?" Blaine asked, picking up a piece of armor from where it rested and sliding it on.

Kurt reached out to help him with the hard-to-reach buckles. "What do you mean?"

"I would think that the gold sitting on your head would make it a perfect target for thieves," Blaine said worriedly, shifting into a protective mode.

"Well, that's why I have you," Kurt said, patting the last piece of armor as he strapped it to Blaine. "At any rate, I'm not completely inept; I can defend myself, too." He'd asked the servant who saddled his horse to attach his bow and quiver of arrows to the saddle.

Blaine made a dissatisfied noise but swung onto his horse with surprising ease for someone who was outfitted in so much heavy armor. Kurt merely shook his head. He and Blaine had fought in a _war_, and now he was worrying about him in their own country? If any danger did arise, Blaine would then see just how well Kurt could defend himself.

* * *

><p><em>Late Summer, 629 A.D.; the countryside on the outskirts of Westerville, Algania<em>

They made quick time during travel, but stopped often to visit the people in the towns they passed. Kurt was amazed by the variety of people he met along the way. He found that he was more than happy to listen to what they had to say, be it complaints or compliments. Many people requested stories about their so-called glamorous life at court, and Kurt and Blaine entertained them for hours upon hours with comical court tales.

When they neared Westerville, they had been traveling for a fortnight. The distance was far from great, but the two young men had been happy to stay in towns for more than a day, depending on the interest of their hosts.

"Westerville is the next town," Blaine informed Kurt as night fell two weeks into their travel. "But we won't make it there for a while. It would be better if we stopped here and camped out tonight before continuing in the morning."

"Fine by me," Kurt said as they approached the clearing they would set up in. He hopped off of his horse and began to root around in his saddlebag for a blanket they could spread on the ground; it was warm enough that they didn't need a tent. "Besides, we still have all of that food the people in Marysville gave us. It would probably just go to waste if we didn't eat it before we got to…Blaine?" Kurt paused in his action, the large blanket held tightly in his grasp. "What are you doing?"

Blaine had gotten off of his horse only to stumble his way toward Kurt and bury his nose in the soft hairs at the base of Kurt's head. "Mmm, you smell nice."

"You _know_ that isn't true," Kurt said, walking forward to spread out the blanket a few feet away from where they would start the fire. "I smell like dirt and sweat and horses, and I'm sure that it isn't too appealing."

"It's appealing," Blaine said with a smirk.

Kurt blushed and sat down gingerly on the blanket he'd laid out. "Blaine?"

"Yes?"

"We can't eat if someone doesn't start the fire," Kurt said with a chuckle. "It's definitely your turn, somehow you conned me into doing it the last three times."

"Oh, right!" Blaine exclaimed, clamoring to start the fire. "I wouldn't want my elegant prince going hungry, now would I?"

"I can go without eating," Kurt said, smirking as he stretched out on the blanket and looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. "You, on the other hand, turn into a complete bear."

"That's…beside the point," Blaine said shiftily, making Kurt burst out in giggles. The countertenor rolled over on his side and tucked up his legs to his chest as he watched Blaine start the fire. "What?" Blaine asked self-consciously. "Did I say something? Do I have something on my face?"

"No," Kurt said quickly. "I'm just looking. You know, we've never been on a road this deserted."

"Technically we're not _on_ the road anymore," Blaine pointed out. "We left it to spend the night."

"You know what I mean. We're not in a town, there aren't any other people." Kurt grinned at Blaine angelically.

"Yes?" Blaine prompted, though he had a feeling that he knew where Kurt was going with his train of thought.

Kurt shrugged and rolled onto his back again – the stars were now visible and they were shining brightly, as Kurt had never seen them in the city. "I thought now that people aren't watching us…I don't know…we don't have to be as careful as we did in the towns."

"If by careful you mean doing nothing at all," Blaine said with a chuckle. "Then I suppose you're right." He caught Kurt's gaze out of the corner of his eye and smiled slowly. "What, does this mean that you aren't hungry anymore?"

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far," Kurt said playfully.

A moment later, Blaine had surged toward Kurt, sitting so that Kurt was stretched out before him and could rest his head in the knight's lap. "Wouldn't you?" Blaine asked softly as he bent over to kiss Kurt upside down. Not a moment had passed before their kiss grew deeper and Kurt twisted around in a sitting position to gain greater leverage as his mouth worked against Blaine's.

"No," Kurt responded breathlessly, kissing Blaine strongly in between words. "I would say…the only thing…I'm hungry for…is…you."

"Mmm," Blaine mumbled as their lips crashed together again. Kurt inched forward and wrapped his legs around Blaine's waist as he sat in his lap. He slung his arms around Blaine's neck and kissed him slowly and sweetly, drawing out the motions with a torturous slowness that soon had Blaine softly moaning his name and almost begging him to take more assertive action.

Responding to Blaine's plea, Kurt shifted and fell backward, grabbing onto the loose fabric of Blaine's shirt and pulling him back with him. The shorter boy pressed him into the ground and hastily reached up a hand to fiddle awkwardly with the ties of Kurt's light tunic.

Kurt reached up and gently pushed Blaine's trembling hand away so he could take care of the ties himself. "Flustered?" Kurt asked with a chuckle as Blaine momentarily leaned up and afforded Kurt a view of his red cheeks.

"It's been too long since we've done this…any of this," Blaine said in a breathy whisper, leaning his forehead against Kurt's as the taller boy conquered the tunic laces. Blaine's hand slipped down to the bottom hemline and he slid the tunic over Kurt's head, taking the thin shirt with it. His hands immediately returned to run over the pale skin of Kurt's chest and abdomen.

Abruptly, Blaine moved his head away from Kurt's, causing the taller boy to lazily open his eyes. Blaine was looking down at him with a small smile, his curls framed by moonlight. "What?" Kurt said, returning his smile and reaching up a hand to brush it through Blaine's curls, which he had always had trouble resisting the urge to touch.

"You're beautiful," Blaine said simply, leaning on Kurt's chest. "So beautiful that I almost can't decide whether I want to keep kissing you, or if I'd rather just look at you."

"Almost?" Kurt asked with a mischievous grin, hands lingering at the base of Blaine's shirt.

"Mhmm," Blaine murmured, pressing his lips to Kurt's again in an answer. "Almost." Still smiling, Kurt lifted the shirt over Blaine's head so that when Blaine next leaned down, their bare chests pressed together. The contact made Kurt shiver in spite of the warm temperature, and he felt an excited, forbidden thrill travel down his spine.

They met with more urgency, the tension from weeks of bottled tension coming out all at once. Kurt momentarily thought that the front of his pants must have been getting tighter before he realized that it wasn't the pants at all; as he shifted his hips under Blaine, he felt that he wasn't the only one who was affected by the sudden heat to their kisses.

Blaine seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he let out a breathless gasp and pulled back so Kurt could see the hungry, lustful darkness in his eyes. It was a look that Kurt could only resist for a moment because in the next, one hand was on the back of Blaine's neck, drawing the kiss deeper, and the other was wrapped around his torso, pulling their bodies closer together as if even bare skin was too thick of a barrier. One of his legs snaked up to wrap around Blaine's waist and he pushed upward with his hips so that he moved against Blaine, making the shorter boy elicit a long, deep-throated moan.

"Kurt," he mumbled, hand drifting to the waist of the other boy's pants. "Can I…?"

"Yes," Kurt said immediately, moving his lips down the side of Blaine's neck as they left a trail of soft kisses. His fingers hooked around the waist of Kurt's pants and Blaine pulled them down low over one hipbone. With careful slowness, his lips trailed over Kurt's skin in a series of hot breaths and kisses. They traveled down his stomach until they reached the sensitive skin along the line of Kurt's hip, where Blaine's tongue began to move in intricate patterns and swirls.

Kurt tried to get air to his lungs but every new touch from Blaine knocked the breath out of him all over again. He could feel his mind slipping away to a place of blissful ecstasy, but he snapped back to reality as he felt Blaine slide his pants off the rest of the way, leaving Kurt there in nothing but his own skin.

He was suddenly very cognizant that Blaine still had half of his clothes on, and a paranoid part of Kurt's mind thought that Blaine would be repulsed and leave him right then and there. But a moment later, he felt soft fingers tracing their way up the sides of his outer thigh and he suddenly heard a whisper in his ear. "Have I told you that you're perfect?" Blaine whispered, his lips tickling Kurt's ear.

Kurt smiled in relief. "I think you used the word beautiful," he said breathlessly, "but I'll take it."

"Well, it's worth repeating," Blaine said. "You're perfect _and_ beautiful, and every other positive word that I could ever think of." He leaned down to kiss Kurt slowly, drawing out the motions and using both hands to cup Kurt's face as his tongue begged entry. After a few more minutes of carrying on in such a fashion, Blaine spoke again: "Kurt…how…how could we…?"

Kurt made an indistinct noise, his own fingers pulling down on the waist of Blaine's breeches and tugging them ever lower down his hips while the other buried itself in Blaine's curls as he lightly kissed the other boy's earlobe. After a brief moment of struggle, Blaine rolled off of Kurt.

When his side pressed against him again, Kurt could feel the bare skin of Blaine's body pressed against his. For the first time in quite a few minutes, Kurt's eyes fluttered open. He leaned on his side, facing Blaine as the other boy faced him. "What do you mean?" he muttered as his mouth turned to leaving fluttering kisses down the length of Blaine's chest, working ever lower.

Blaine gasped when Kurt's mouth brushed against his nipple, and he let out a ragged groan as he nipped at his defined hipbone. "You _know_ what I mean," he struggled to say in between breathless gasps. Kurt merely mumbled something and shifted so that Blaine was on his back. The prince's lips were still working their way downward, passing the thin trail of hair that meant he would have been lower down than the line of clothes.

Kurt could feel a pulsing need building up inside of him; he needed to be _with_ Blaine, he needed some way to release it. He wanted Blaine so badly that it was almost a physical pain, one that he didn't know how to eradicate. He hesitated and his blue eyes flicked up to Blaine's amber ones, which were wide and searching.

Both of them were breathing in shallow gasps, which grew shallower as Kurt's eyes traveled away from Blaine's face and downward. Kurt felt his breath hitch as he looked at Blaine and he had to bite down on his lip harshly for something to distract from the almost all-consuming need that was coursing through him. His eyes went back to Blaine's face before he voiced his question. "Should…should I…?" Kurt saw Blaine's eyes watching his tongue as it flicked out to wet his lips, and his own swollen lips parted slightly.

But the lustful look in his face was over almost as soon as it came, to be replaced by a hesitant, unsure expression. "I…I don't know," Blaine confessed, for what felt to Kurt like the millionth time. "I don't want to do anything wrong."

Suddenly frustrated, Kurt rolled off of Blaine quickly and heaved himself into a sitting position. For a long, silent moment, he was angry at Blaine for not knowing; surely _someone_ had to know more than he did, why couldn't that person have been Blaine? But a moment later the mood had passed and Kurt was ashamed that it had come at all, though the feeling of general frustration and dissatisfaction still lingered. They were both still young, Kurt reminded himself. They were only nineteen and they were both generally inexperienced in intimate matters, let alone those with another man. He shouldn't expect Blaine to know any more than he did, which was precisely nothing.

"What went wrong?" Blaine asked softly, reaching up to touch Kurt's shoulder gently.

"Everything," Kurt said harshly, standing up with his back facing Blaine. "A _key_ doesn't do anything to another _key_ besides bump against it uselessly. It needs to have a _lock_ to do be able to do anything, and neither of us has got one of those, have we?"

"But…there has to be some way…that we can made this work," Blaine mused hopefully.

Kurt sighed tiredly and shook his head. He stood, grabbing his own breeches. "I'll be right back," he grumbled. He was still feeling overly pent up. He had heard running water when they'd arrived, he could take care of his problem there.

When he returned, Blaine appeared to have gone through the same trials as Kurt, for he was clothed in his breeches once more and he laid face up to the sky, with arms crossed against his chest.

Gently, Kurt sat next to him. Now that he was calmer, he regretted snapping at the knight. "I'm sorry," Kurt apologized, hand traveling to cup Blaine's cheek. Blaine turned away from his touch. "I was frustrated; can you say that you were anything but that, too?"

"No," Blaine said flatly.

"But you said that there has to be some way," Kurt said, lying down and curling up against Blaine's side in spite of his cold reception. "We'll find it, whatever it is. I want to be with you, no one else. I don't care if we can't…do things the same way. I don't care if it isn't easy. I just want _you_, no matter how difficult it is for us." Kurt paused, wondering if he would regret these words come the morning. With resolve, he decided that he wouldn't. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you and I'd do anything for you, anything at all."

Blaine was silent for so long that Kurt thought that he must have gone to sleep. But just when Kurt himself felt like he was beginning to fade into sleep, Blaine finally responded. Kurt felt Blaine turn so that his head rested on Kurt's shoulder and his arm could snake around Kurt's waist. "I love you, too," he whispered waveringly. "It scares me…but I do love you, _so_ much. I've always loved you."

Kurt squeezed Blaine tighter to let him know that he had heard, but he couldn't find a voice with which to say anything. Not five minutes later, Kurt felt asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yay, there we go! :D I've been waiting to use that lock and key line since The Way You Look At Me, so I'm glad I could fit it in! I'd love to hear what everyone thinks of the story so far, or of Kurt and Blaine's tender situation, so drop me a word! :D As always, thanks so much for reading! :3_


	12. Chapter 12 :: Even More than Anyone

_A/N: Welcome back again, ladies and gents! :D Many, many things developed in this chapter that I didn't plan on, making it different than the original plan called for. But the theme I mentioned earlier comes with one more chapter, a chorus if you will. That's all I have to say about that!_

_Lots of things and people get introduced in this chapter, so I'll just say one thing in regards to that. Google Translate will be your best friend with this fic. If you ever find a name you don't know, have fun exploring the Latin translations. Latin is my absolute FAVORITE tool to use in making names. I'm sure at least some of you understood how I named Fons Fortunae, now everyone knows! The names in this chapter are very Latin heavy, and all mean something special, so I urge you to go look them up!_

_Finally, this chapter has a dedication :D To the lovely Angelica (Brilliantim) - I don't think you'll have any trouble at all finding your surprise in this chapter, dear :3_

* * *

><p><em>Late Summer, 629 A.D.; the countryside on the outskirts of Westerville, Algania<em>

When Kurt woke up the next morning, it was to the faint sound of trotting horses. Sleepily, he stirred on the blanket, only then realizing that Blaine was beside him. His mind still foggy with sleep, Kurt mumbled contentedly and rolled on his side so he could draw Blaine closer to his chest.

As Blaine's warm back made contact with the front of his chest, realization hit Kurt like a bucket of ice water. He immediately sat bolt upright , eyes flying open just as a line of about half a dozen official looking men came into the clearing which Blaine and Kurt had set up in.

For a moment, Kurt was frozen in shock. The lead rider approached the blanket, his face carefully blank as he looked down at the two shirtless boys lying side by side. Kurt's pale eyes quickly flicked over the flag that one of the other men carried, and he immediately recognized the Westerville coat of arms: a rampant, scarlet lion on a navy blue background. The riders were from the court at Westerville.

Thinking quickly, Kurt scrambled to his feet, casting a quick look behind him. Blaine was just stirring from his sleep; one thing Kurt had found out quickly was that it took more than a stampede to wake Blaine in the mornings. Thrusting his shoulders back authoritatively, Kurt strode over to where his horse rested nearby. Not taking his eyes from the lead rider, Kurt quickly reached into the saddlebag and drew out his gold coronet.

Trying to look as dignified as he could with no shirt on, he placed the coronet onto his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He stood in front of the rider, determined not to break the silence first. By this time, Blaine's eyes had just cracked open, and he began to register the situation.

Slowly, the rider dismounted and his companions followed suit. Not breaking eye contact, he dipped into a shallow bow before Kurt. "Y-your Highness?" The stutter in his voice betrayed his emotion, and Kurt knew in that moment that he had come out victorious in this small battle of wills, in spite of the compromising position he had been caught in.

Blaine's sleepy amber eyes, slightly hooded in tiredness, looked rapidly between Kurt and the lead rider. When Kurt did not speak, Blaine carefully got to his feet. "Captain Bellator," Blaine said once he was standing.

"Master Blaine," the captain responded, tipping his head. Kurt noticed how the corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile as he saw Blaine. "We haven't seen each other for quite some time, Blaine. This isn't quite how I imagined our reunion to proceed."

Blaine was silent for a moment, and it looked to Kurt as if he were having a fierce internal struggle. A moment later, a barking laugh escaped Blaine and he surged forward to hug the captain. Kurt's jaw dropped open as the captain let out a hearty chuckle and returned the hug.

When they pulled away, Blaine and Captain Bellator each left an arm around the other. A roiling monster seemed to unfurl itself in Kurt's stomach as he watched the proceedings in shock. "Kurt, this is Captain Fortis Bellator," Blaine introduced the captain. "And Fortis, this is Prince Kurt of the royal court."

His beaming gaze went back and forth between the men. Seeing that Kurt was not about to move from his position, Captain Bellator stepped out of Blaine's arm and held out his hand to Kurt. His internal monster threatening to open its mouth and shoot fire, Kurt gritted his teeth and gripped the captain's hand slightly harder than necessary. Bellator's grin did not waver. "It is an honor to have a Crown Prince gracing our court," he said smoothly. "A messenger came last week from Queen Vivienne, saying that you had left the week before and were making slow progress this direction, with Westerville as your final destination. We were riding out to meet you."

"We've made it this far on our own," Kurt mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest once more. Blaine shot Kurt a quizzical glance but didn't respond.

Instead, he clapped a hand on the captain's shoulder gleefully. "I'm glad for it. Announcing myself would have been a bother."

The captain's eyes, the grey of glinting armor, crinkled in amusement. "As I recall, Blaine," he said pointedly. "You've never had trouble announcing yourself before now."

The two laughed again and Kurt's monster let out a resounding howl that echoed through his entire being. "Kurt," Blaine said, facing him. "Fortis is the son of the captain of my father's guard, and has taken up the position himself since his father retired. We grew up together; he's like a brother to me."

"Indeed," Kurt said, forcing himself to sound normal. He was sure that he and Finn didn't act as friendly as the two men in front of him.

"Look at you, Blaine!" Bellator exclaimed, grabbing onto Blaine's arms and stepping back to survey him. "You look like a patchwork quilt. The war wasn't good to you then, my friend?"

Blaine laughed, and as Kurt noted, he seemed more jovial than he had in quite a long time. "If it means that I've formally proved myself a competent warrior," Blaine said, "then it's a small price to pay."

"They aren't that bad," Kurt said defensively. He rather liked Blaine's scars; they made him who he was.

"Of course not," the captain said, not deterred in the least. "Women do _love_ patchwork quilts, don't they, Blaine?"

Kurt looked quickly at Blaine to see his reaction. His monster was slightly appeased when Blaine laughed uncomfortably and took a small step away from his old friend. "Right, well," he stuttered, "one hardly has time when…well. At war, you know, for so long…"

His sentence died out lamely; the captain took pity on him and shook his head good-naturedly. "No excuses, now," he said heartily. "One day, then – I'm sure that any woman who you showed an interest in would flock to you." Bellator shoved him playfully and winked rather saucily, or so it seemed to Kurt. "Or any man for that matter."

It was clear that he'd meant it as a joke, but Blaine's face drained of color even as Kurt's turned redder than a cherry. "Always poking fun, Fortis," Blaine said with forced cheerfulness that was apparent to Kurt's ears. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "We should make our way to Westerville."

"Indeed," Bellator said quickly, beckoning to the other men, who Kurt had all but forgotten existed. "Help them with their things." He turned to Blaine and Kurt. "You two should get dressed. God knows we can't ride you into Westerville like that; you look atrocious. Had a rough night sleeping on the ground, Your Highness?"

"If I didn't know better, _Bellator_," Kurt hissed, eyes narrowing in spite of the effort he had put into keeping his face neutral. "I'd say that you were mocking me. Luckily for you, I know that no sane Captain of the Guard, especially for a well-respected fief such as Westerville, would dare do such a thing to a prince of Algania." The monster in his chest had unfurled its wings, and fueled Kurt's accusations. He hardly ever lost his temper with anyone; even when he was speaking to David, Kurt kept his head and refused to argue. Something in Bellator's demeanor – not to mention his friendliness with Blaine – brought it out of Kurt.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered warningly. When pale eyes fixed on amber, Blaine shook his head minutely.

"Don't be so quick to excuse my words, Blaine," Bellator said, eyes fixed on Kurt once more. "Your friend is right, of course. One must guard their tongue around the crown."

Kurt's lips pressed together tightly and he stood straighter as Bellator dipped into a bow. If he had been Dave, Kurt knew what would have happened – he easily could have accused the captain of treason. A quick look at Blaine's conflicted face drove the brief thought out of Kurt's mind.

This was Blaine's _home_, Kurt reminded himself. Of course he would have old friends here. Kurt had been foolish to assume that he was Blaine's only friend; they had been apart almost their entire childhood and Blaine couldn't have spent the rest of that time alone. Furthermore, Blaine never acted that way around Kurt's friends at the palace. He never got so – there was no other word for it – _jealous_ of Sam or Finn, or even Mercedes.

"Perhaps not _all_ the time," Kurt conceded, lowering his chin slightly.

Bellator gave him a small smile. "Good to know." He took a deep breath and turned to his men, who had almost loaded all of their things into saddlebags. In his preoccupation with Bellator, Kurt hadn't even noticed that they had been working.

He quickly dug in his clothing bag and drew out a bright scarlet shirt, which he quickly drew on under a dark tunic. "Westerville colors," Bellator pointed out as he hopped onto his horse. He smirked. "Lord Ander will be flattered."

"Did you plan that, Kurt?" When Kurt looked at Blaine, he was smiling widely, eyes sincere.

Kurt's icy disposition softened considerably at Blaine's expression. "Would you expect anything else?" Kurt asked, getting onto his own horse. He reached up to adjust his coronet, which had grown slightly crooked.

"No," Blaine replied, amused. He pulled up his horse next to Kurt's. "Lead away, Fortis." He turned back to Kurt after calling up to the captain, who began to lead the procession at a quick clip. His expression had turned to a curious, slightly concerned one. "Are you quite alright?"

"They galloped in to catch us in bed together," Kurt said worriedly. His paranoia had temporarily vanished when he'd spoken to the captain, but in lieu of Blaine's open gaze, it revealed itself once more. "W-what if he tells someone? What if news reaches the court? What if it reaches _Dave_?"

"Kurt, you're overthinking things," Blaine said gently. They were riding close enough to allow him to reach over to brush his fingers through the front of Kurt's hair softly. Only the fact that they were behind the other riders led Kurt to not flinch away from him. Instead, he leaned into the touch ever so slightly. "I've known these people my entire life. They wouldn't jump to any conclusions. Even if they did, they would never voice them to another soul."

"If you say so," Kurt responded, finding that he had faith in Blaine's promise. He looked over at Blaine and smiled. "I'll get to meet your family." He grinned slyly. "They don't know what we do, but it should be pleasant all the same."

"I'm positive they'll love you," Blaine said with assurance. "You'll automatically be on father's good side for nothing more than being Duke Burton's son. He always talked about how he worked with the Duke when corresponding with King Paul about the treaty with the earth tribes of the southeast. Mother will love you forever if you fill her in on all the latest court gossip, and give her the latest news on court styles and whatnot." Blaine chuckled. "My sister will adore you no matter what."

Kurt's head tilted questioningly. "I didn't know you had a sister," he said slowly. With each moment that passed, he found that there was more he didn't know about Blaine, and they hadn't even reached Westerville yet.

"She's almost ten," Blaine informed him. "She was born a couple of years before I left for Ashtabula. I visited here once a year all through my page and squire years, but with the war and all, I haven't seen her in well over a year."

Kurt was silent. What else didn't he know about Blaine? He had known this trip was going to be informative, but he hardly expected it to be so informative about the inner workings of Blaine's previous life. It made him recognize his own short-sightedness in not seeing Blaine beyond their own interactions.

"I can hardly wait," he said finally, his anticipation not feigned. At the quick pace they were traveling at, they would be in Westerville by midday, and then Kurt could delve deeper into the side of Blaine that he hardly knew.

* * *

><p>They arrived a bit later than Kurt had anticipated, so that the sun was no longer directly above when the small castle came into view. Kurt immediately saw how Blaine said they could have the privacy they wanted there. It was surrounded by a sea of crops that Kurt soon recognized as grape vines, and was completely and thoroughly rustic.<p>

As if reading his mind, Blaine spoke: "Westerville is famous for its wine grapes. You probably wouldn't notice, but I've seen the Westerville logo on many of the wine bottles that circulate through court."

"It's beautiful," Kurt whispered sincerely, eyes scanning over the vineyards. They stretched almost as far as he could see to the right and left. Closer to the castle, there were small clusters of houses that were bright, clean, and well-kept, with winding cobbled streets snaking in between them and stalls of all sorts set up in the streets. Just beyond the castle, Kurt could see a glimmering lake to one side and a grassy hill leading into a thicket of tangled trees on the other.

"Lenis Lake and the Tenebrarum Trees," Blaine continued, watching the path of Kurt's eyes. "You'd think that the latter would be a security risk to the castle, but no one has ever gotten through Tenebrarum."

"You mean no one has ever gotten through Tenebrarum _alive_," Bellator said, falling back. He grinned cheekily at Kurt. "Not for lack of trying. Foolish teenagers in the village dare each other to spend a night in Tenebrarum." He paused for effect. "Those who come back refuse to speak of it."

"That isn't _true_," Blaine retorted. "There's nothing in Tenebrarum beyond what their minds make up," he said to Kurt.

"I suppose you've been in there to prove it?" The captain smiled placidly and cocked his head.

"I suppose _you_ think that the word of frightened teenagers verifies rumors," Blaine said with a hint of a challenge in his voice. He turned back to Kurt. "Father once tried to enforce a rule about venturing into Tenebrarum, but it didn't stop people from entering it if they were determined to. It's their choice."

"What's _in_ there?" Kurt asked, nervously eying the dark forest.

Blaine immediately said "nothing", but the captain refuted him by following his proclamation with one of his own: "They _say_ it's a legend."

"It _is_ a legend."

Bellator shot an annoyed glance at Blaine. "But that doesn't explain the people who never came back after going into Tenebrarum." He turned back to Kurt. "The only people who know what's in the forest are the ones who are in no fit state to tell us anything about it, if they're in any state at all. It's a mystery."

Kurt shot an uneasy glance at Blaine just in time to see the knight roll his eyes. "I've never heard any of this," Kurt said slowly. "Why hasn't news of this monster reached the court?"

"Because there _is_ no monster."

"Ah, you mean there is no proof. With no proof, there's no case." He smirked, clearly enjoying working Kurt up. "The Tenebrarum Monster is free to walk in the forest's eternal night."

"Fortis enjoys his little tales," Blaine said, "even more than he enjoys his jokes, if you'll believe it. Pay them no heed. In fact, don't pay heed to anything Fortis tells you."

"I missed you too, Blaine," the captain said sarcastically. "Let the little prince believe whatever he wants. But it's no time to talk about it now, we're here."

His mind preoccupied by the mysterious folk tale of the Tenebrarum Trees, Kurt hadn't noticed how close they'd gotten to the castle. There was no moat as there was at Lima, but there was a tall wall surrounding the castle and a bridge that dropped down to grant access.

The gate was open already, and the riders crossed into a large courtyard. Inside, people from both the village and castle milled around and got water from the large well at the center. As they rode slowly through the courtyard, people began exclaiming and pointing at Blaine and Kurt.

Eyes traveled to Kurt's coronet and people pointed excitedly. More than a few people called out greeting to Blaine, or approached him to exchange brief words, but no one spoke directly to Kurt. "That was strange," Kurt remarked as they passed through the inner gate.

"Most of the people have never left this city before, let alone seen one of the royals," Blaine told him. "I assume that it gets more extreme the farther from court we get. It was different in the closer towns, when they were closer to the city. Before now, the monarchy has been a vague notion for them – faceless, bodiless entities. It must be strange for them to be able to put a person to the institution."

Kurt remained quiet while they handed their horses and bags over to the Westerville servants. As they walked through the small castle, he began to get more nervous. He didn't know much about Blaine's parents, besides that Lord Ander had arranged that famous treaty and had, for some reason, not allowed Blaine to return to the castle after that first summer when they had been only five years old.

"Are you feeling alright?" Bellator asked, peering at Kurt. "You aren't _nervous_ are you? I would have thought that a reception at a place like Westerville was hardly a big ordeal for you."

"I didn't get much sleep," Kurt lied. "I'm fine." Blaine looked concerned and unconvinced. When Bellator wasn't looking, he reached over and quickly squeezed Kurt's hand.

"I sent a runner ahead to inform the Lord and Lady that we were approaching," Bellator continued, none the wiser. "They are expecting us now."

"Now?" Blaine asked. "Before we've had a chance to freshen up? We've been on the road for a fortnight, you know."

"Staying in villages and being doted on," Bellator said. "It must have been so hard for you. They're your parents Blaine, if you haven't impressed them yet, I'd give up hope. I'll only need to introduce the prince for him to make a good impression. You worry too much."

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a quick grin. Blaine had said the same thing to Kurt not too long ago, to which Kurt had replied that it was better to worry too much.

Bellator stopped outside an elegant double door. "Announce us," he commanded the single guard that stood outside the door. The captain gave him the names to say and stood back.

The man nodded and stepped inside; Kurt heard him say: "His Highness, Prince Kurt of Lima, Sir Blaine Anderson, and Guard Captain Fortis Bellator."

The captain nodded for the men to step up, and Kurt followed him through the doors. In the room sat a strong man and a regal looking woman – Blaine's parents.

They rose when they saw Kurt. He approached them, decorum taking over, and dipped into a shallow bow. "Lord Ander, Lady Gemma," he greeted them.

A gentle hand on his arm made Kurt raise his head once more. He looked up into amber eyes exactly like Blaine's. "Prince Kurt," said Blaine's mother in a surprisingly deep and soothing voice. "It's an honor to have you here at Westerville."

"I welcome you to treat it as your home for as long as you wish to stay," Lord Ander said with a smile Kurt would have called triumphant.

"Oh, do stay the winter?" Lady Gemma asked, clasping her hands together and looking hopeful. Kurt couldn't help it when the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. It was obvious which parent Blaine took after. Aside from her amber eyes and head of dark ringlets, Lady Gemma's good-natured enthusiasm was startlingly familiar. Lord Ander, on the other hand, couldn't look less like Blaine, with his sandy hair and pale skin.

"I don't want to impose," Kurt said carefully. It was for propriety's sake alone; both parties knew where the conversation would end up.

"I insist," Lady Gemma said, unclasping her hands. She walked up to Blaine and kissed him on the cheek. "We haven't seen Blaine in far too long, and I expect that he'll depart as you do. Grant me the favor?"

"I'd be flattered," Kurt said, still smiling at the woman.

"Mama," Blaine greeted her, throwing his arms around her and burying his face momentarily in her long curls. "Father." Lord Ander grabbed his son's hand and clapped him on the shoulder fondly.

After greeting his son, Lord Ander stepped aside with Captain Bellator to talk in hushed tones. "Mother?" Blaine asked, peering around the room. "Where's the little monster?"

She _tsk-_ed disapprovingly but Kurt giggled at the nickname. "If you mean your sister, she's here somewhere. She was _just_ here, where could she have –"

"No, don't tell me," Blaine said. Kurt watched in amazement as Blaine got onto his hands and knees and began to crawl around on the ground. "Where is she? Could she have become invisible? Mother, you should have told me!"

Suddenly, a high-pitched giggle came from behind a comfortable looking chair close to the fireplace. "Did that chair just _giggle_?" Blaine turned to Kurt with a large smile on his face. "Kurt, did you hear that chair giggle?"

"Oh…yes!" Kurt said, nodding vigorously. "Very strange, I've never heard of such a thing before. Shall we investigate it?"

"I think we shall," Blaine agreed, inching closer to the chair, still on his hands and knees. Kurt looked at Lady Gemma to see that she was smiling widely and attempting to cover her giggles with her hand. "It's still laughing! Kurt, do you hear this? I don't think we've ever heard anything like that at court."

"I rather think we haven't," Kurt agreed. "Blaine…you don't think that the giggling chair…_ate_ your sister, do you?"

A peal of giggles came from behind the chair, and Blaine gasped dramatically. "Kurt, you're a genius!" Blaine exclaimed. "We have to rescue her!" Having reached the chair, he prepared to peer around the back, but before he could burst around the corner, a blur came around and stuck to Blaine's side like a burr. "Oof!" Blaine grunted, rocking back with the impact. "Look, Kurt, it spat her out!"

"It didn't eat me! I was hiding."

"Then you're a very good hider," Blaine told her, standing and hoisting the nine-year-old up to her feet as well. "Kurt, this is my little sister, Angelica. Angie, this is Prince Kurt. He's from the royal palace at Lima."

She skipped up to Kurt and beamed up at him with the same color eyes as her father, though he'd been expecting another set of amber eyes. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Angelica," Kurt said, bending at the waist and taking her hand to kiss the back of it softly.

"You're a _prince_?" she asked wonderingly. "You know the king?"

"He's my cousin," said Kurt with a nod.

The little girl gasped and bounced up and down on her toes. "I've never been to court before, but I get to go when I'm eleven! Will I meet the king then? Is he very strong? Is he ten feet tall? Is his sword really wreathed in flames?"

"Angelica!" Lady Gemma exclaimed, sounding shocked. "Who told you such things?"

"I've just heard some things," she said, peering around shiftily.

"It's alright," Kurt assured Blaine's mother, who looked as if she was about to speak again. He turned to address the little girl. "He is very strong, but he's not that tall. He has a normal sword, like the kind your brother uses."

"Blaine," she said, turning to her brother accusatorily. "You use a sword that's the same as the king? Can I see it? I want to learn how to use a sword! Mother, I want to be a knight like Blaine."

"You know, Angelica," Kurt told the young girl. "Sometimes, the ladies at court have archery contests." She gasped excitedly and clasped her hands against her mouth. "It just so happens that _I'm_ an expert at archery. If your mother and father don't object –"

"Better than the king?" she asked excitedly.

"Much better," Blaine answered in Kurt's stead. "You couldn't find a better teacher anywhere." Blaine's sister squeaked in excitement once more and turned to begin pacing excitedly throughout the room. Blaine turned to his mother. "We haven't yet unpacked. Perhaps you could excuse us before dinner?"

Kurt was about to say that he didn't mind being held up, in fact he rather liked being held up by Blaine's family, but Lady Gemma's words came first. "Of course! I'll send someone to see you to your rooms. Kurt, dear, feel free to wander about or do what you will until supper; someone will fetch you when it's time."

They both muttered their thanks and followed the man Gemma sent for. He led them through several halls and up one flight of stairs to two rooms that were side by side. "That's convenient," Kurt said with a smirk.

"I might have put in a quick word before we went to see my mother and father," Blaine said, entering Kurt's room behind him and closing the door. "After all, how on earth are you supposed to find your way around if I'm not there at all times of the day, ready to guide you?" He went to a door inside the room and swung it open as he waggled his eyebrows up and down. "Look, they even adjoin."

"Because that isn't suspicious at all," Kurt said uncertainly, looking into the other room, where Blaine's things were already resting. His own things were piled on a chest at the end of his bed.

"I've said it before," Blaine said, entering his room to unpack and leaving the door open. "This isn't like the court at Lima. There isn't anyone here to analyze everything you do and say and make the worst of it. We can do whatever we want."

"Whatever we want?" Kurt asked slyly, shooting Blaine a sideways glance.

"Perhaps I should rephrase," he said with a chuckle.

They continued to unpack their things. As they would be staying in Westerville for quite a while, they both unpacked fully. Between actual unpacking and extremely unproductive breaks from aforementioned unpacking, it had been almost two hours before they were finished.

A knock came on Blaine's door just Kurt was finishing unpacking his last things. "Just for a moment," Blaine said, inching their adjoining door closed.

Kurt tried not to eavesdrop, but he still heard the murmuring of voices. Not long had passed before they stopped and the door reopened. "Father wants a word," Blaine said. "Supper should be in a few hours if you want to take a bath or a nap or something. I should be back before then, but feel free to wander over to the private banquet hall before then if you want."

"It's no problem," Kurt assured him. "Go ahead; I am a little tired."

A wave of tiredness had indeed washed over him as he finished the unpacking process, leaving Kurt's eyelids drooping. Blaine approached and ran a calloused thumb over the dark circles under Kurt's eyes before leaning forward and kissing them softly. "I wish I could stay with you," he mumbled, dipping in to capture Kurt's lips.

"Mmm, we'd never get any real sleeping done," Kurt told him, wrapping am arm around Blaine's neck to hold him momentarily. He returned the kiss for a minute, and drew back reluctantly.

"We have all night," Blaine said with a mischievous grin as he slid out of Kurt's grasp and crossed to his door. "I'll see you at dinner."

Kurt pressed his fingers over his tingling lips as Blaine left, only flopping back on the bed when Blaine had closed the door. He had taken off his shoes long ago, so he curled up among the comfortable covers and burrowed into the pillows as he heaved a sigh of relief.

He'd underestimated how tired he was. Not five minutes had passed before Kurt was sleeping deeply.

* * *

><p>When he awoke, the sun was considerably lower in the sky. Afraid that he'd missed dinner, Kurt quickly splashed water on his face, changed clothes, and put on his boots once more before leaving the room.<p>

He wandered the unfamiliar hallways, trying to find the private banquet hall on his own before he had to ask someone where it was. It was mere coincidence that he heard raised voices. Kurt's mind traveled back to the day he'd overheard his father, aunt, and King Paul arguing about the duke's marriage to Carole. He'd learned a lot from eavesdropping that day.

But, he thought, he didn't plan on doing such a thing to people he hardly knew. The only thing that stopped him was the sound of his own name sounding out in Blaine's voice. Kurt peered around the corridor to make sure that no one was coming before he inched closer to the door.

"What does this have to do with Kurt?" Blaine's voice asked.

"I'm merely attempting to congratulate you." Kurt had only heard Lord Ander speak briefly but his voice was unmistakable. "Not everyone can go to court and immediately capture the attentions of the royal line."

"Attentions? What do you mean?"

Lord Ander laughed humorlessly. "I might have been talking to Captain Bellator, but I still heard him pick up that silly little game you play with Angelica."

"What does that have to do with _anything_?"

"You're too young. You don't realize what an asset it is to have a member of the monarchy in your pocket."

"He's not 'in my pocket'! What are you talking about?"

"That's what the royal court is about, Blaine. Don't be naïve. It's all a game as to who can win favor and who can't. It is obvious that you have. He's _first_ in line for the throne, for goodness sake."

Kurt's heart had started to pound so loudly that he was surprised Blaine and his father couldn't hear it.

There was silence for several moments, but Blaine broke it. "You're wrong." Kurt's heart soared at the simple words. "Perhaps you lived in a different court, father, or perhaps I do. In fact, perhaps I'm just a different man than you. People might be pawns on a chessboard to you, father, but I see no such thing." Kurt's breath hitched. He'd said almost the exact same thing to Dave regarding the war.

"I would appreciate it if you either saw Kurt as a person or politely avoided interacting with either of us during the duration of our stay," Blaine told his father. Kurt's heart was still pounding in his chest, though now it was also warm with affection for the way Blaine stood up for him. "His friendship isn't a prize, father. It's a gift and I'm lucky to have it at all. You wouldn't know. He's only a gold coronet to you; you don't see anything beyond that."

"Blaine," said Lord Ander in shock. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you sounded enamored with the boy."

"Good thing you know everything, then."

"_Kurt_." A quiet voice and a tug on his sleeve almost sent Kurt's heart flying straight out of his chest.

Shaking from shock, he looked down at a little curly head of hair and bright eyes. "Angelica," he said, trying to calm his breathing. He stepped away from the door. "You frightened me."

"I'm good at all sorts of things," she said, nodding seriously. "Hiding and frightening people are only two of them. You'll see all of them one day."

"I'm sure one could never figure out everything you're good at," Kurt said, amused. "Surely they're far too numerous?"

"Oh, Blaine was right about you!" she squealed excitedly, clinging to his hand. "You really _are_ the nicest person in Algania."

"Blaine said that?" Kurt asked, cheeks glowing.

"He's said lots of things about you!"

"_Has_ he?" Kurt asked contemplatively.

"Oh, yes!" Angelica nodded rapidly. "So many that I don't have time to tell them all to you now. Mother said I should get you for supper."

"Lead the way, my lady," Kurt told her, smiling when she giggled and skipped forward to do just that. He followed her through the halls, his mind wandering back to what he'd heard. He knew he shouldn't have stopped to listen, but there was no help for it now that he had.

As much as it stung to know how Lord Ander viewed him, Blaine's response to his father made up for it. When Kurt and Angelica entered the private banquet hall, Blaine was already there. Kurt figured that he must have known a short cut. Blaine's sister pushed Kurt into the chair next to her brother and then skipped around to the other side.

"Did you get to sleep at all?" Blaine asked him quietly, smile playing on his lips.

"Better than I did last night, thanks to you," Kurt said, just as quietly. Under the table, he felt Blaine's hand slide over and grasp his own. Smiling, Kurt laced their fingers together, making sure their arms stayed out of view. As the Lord and Lady came in and they began to eat, Lady Gemma chatting animatedly to Kurt the entire time, Kurt couldn't help but sink into the atmosphere. In spite of what he'd heard not much earlier, he found that Westerville, or perhaps it was anywhere he was with Blaine, began to feel a bit more like home.

* * *

><p><span>Double Fun Fact:<span> **I'm sure more than one person wondered "what the heck kind of name is Ander?" while they were reading this, because it's the only name apart from Angelica that I didn't use for its Latin meaning. All last names that end in "son" originated in naming children after their fathers. In small villages, an older person like the father would be widely recognized, so if someone introduced him self as Blaine Anderson (Ander's son), people would know his father and be able to judge his character as far as you can with that information. The same goes for names like Richardson (Richard's son), Thomson (Tom's son), Jameson (James's son) and lots more! :)

**It was only mentioned briefly, but the Westerville coat of arms is a scarlet lion rearing on a navy backdrop. Things worked out for me way too perfectly with that coat of arms. First of all, Ander happens to mean 'lion man', which was a perfect coincidence. I'd already picked the lion for several reasons: one, to pay tribute to AVPM, since Darren played Harry, a Gryffindor; two, because the symbolic meaning of a lion on a coat of arms is _dauntless courage _("COURAGE"). Could things have worked out more perfectly for Blaine? I really don't think so! The colors, navy and scarlet, are the Dalton colors: red means military strength (and also martyr - foreshadowing perhaps?) and blue is loyalty, both of which Blaine has in mass amounts.

* * *

><p><em>AN: A little break from the sexy times to meet Blaine's family :) Good news is the Westerville story arc just expanded in my head when I was writing this, so I can make the story longer! Hope everyone enjoyed it! And Jelly dear, I hope I didn't go overboard on your surprise *blushes*_

_Thanks for reading!_


	13. Chapter 13 : Love Is All That I Can Give

_A/N: Well, it's been a while since I updated (so sorry about that, by the way) but I hope this makes up for it at least marginally! _

_Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Autumn, 629 A.D.; Westerville, Algania<em>

"Kurt." A soft whisper made Kurt stir from his sleep. A moment later, it repeated: "_Kurt!_"

Gathering his willpower, Kurt opened his eyes. Next to him on the bed, a pair of emerald eyes blinked down at him as he laid there.

"Angelica," Kurt said, a shock of surprise shooting through him. A moment later, a flood of relief coursed through him as he remembered that Blaine gotten back late yesterday and went to his own bed for the night. "How did you get in here?"

For a moment, her small face had seemed worried and preoccupied, but it was gone so fast that Kurt thought he had been imagining it. "The door was cracked open," she answered.

Kurt was momentarily stumped. Surely he had remembered to close the door last night, if not lock it? He shook off the worry quickly; nothing appeared disrupted. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"You promised," she said, tugging on his hand. "You promised that you would start to teach me archery today. You've already been here a fortnight!"

"Right," Kurt said, sitting up in bed and letting himself be tugged into a standing position. He noted that she'd dressed herself in breeches – something that made him want to giggle – and had tied her dark curls up. "Should we get Blaine to come along?"

"He's still sleeping; I already checked."

"You little sneak," Kurt chuckled, shaking his head.

Her smile faltered momentarily, so that Kurt wondered if he had said something wrong, but once again it was gone the next moment. "It wasn't difficult! You two have a door to connect your rooms." She pushed him gently toward his chest of drawers. "I wish I had that with somebody! You could stay up all night talking. Do you sleepover during the night?"

Kurt gaped like a fish out of water. "Er, no," he said quickly. "No, no. He sleeps in his room and I sleep in my room."

"Oh well, sleeping in the same room as friends can be fun. Mother sometimes lets friends from the city sleep over here in the castle. One time –"

"Angie, Angie," Kurt said patiently, putting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her to the door. "I have to get dressed. Wait just outside, will you? I'll write a note to Blaine and be out in a moment."

Undeterred, she skipped out of the door; Kurt was half surprised that she didn't keep talking right through the wooden barrier. Something that the little girl said had caught his attention: she had mentioned her mother letting her friends from the village come up to the castle some nights. Kurt had never known another noble to abide by close friendships between their children and those from the lower tiers of society. He didn't frequent other fiefs – they always came to him – but when their inhabitants came to the royal palace as older children, he made a point of subtly inquiring. It was an interesting tidbit of information concerning Lady Gemma, one that he would store away in the archives of his mind.

He quickly got dressed in something that would be comfortable for medium activity and grabbed a spare bit of parchment. He scribbled out a note to Blaine, telling him where he'd gone. Note in hand, Kurt cracked the door to Blaine's room open. The other boy was lying sprawled out on his bed, the side of his face smashed into his pillow. Kurt placed the parchment on his bedside table where Blaine was sure to see it.

That done, Kurt knelt down beside the bed and took a brief moment to soak in Blaine's sleeping features. Knowing that the little girl waiting outside might get suspicious if he took any longer, Kurt bent forward to place a soft kiss on Blaine's forehead. His hand rose to brush back the dark curls gently. Blaine stirred and mumbled something, but he didn't wake.

Half-wishing that he could slide into the covers with Blaine, Kurt left through his own room. He grabbed his bow, which had been taken from his saddle and placed in a corner of his room, and joined Angelica in the hall.

"Finally," she said, taking his hand as they began to walk. Kurt had been surprised by the sudden sign of affection at first, before realizing that he had done the exact same thing quite often when he was younger. They walked in silence for a few moments before: "Kurt?" The question came out faltering and unsure.

Immediately, his brow crinkled in concern. "What's wrong, Angelica?" Kurt asked softly, squeezing her small hand reassuringly.

"It isn't anything much," she said quickly. Kurt noticed that she had ceased to make eye contact with him, which was the same thing Blaine did when he was uncomfortable. "Can I tell you something? You have to promise me that you'll never tell it to anyone else, not even Blaine."

"Whatever it is," Kurt began, beginning to feel unsure, "I'm sure Blaine would like it if you told him, too. He's your brother; you can tell him anything."

"Not this," she insisted. "Please, don't tell him."

"Whatever you want," Kurt promised, concern growing. "I promise."

They had kept walking throughout the exchange, and Angelica kept silent as they passed through a small crowd of servants on their way outside. "I…just _happened_ to overhear mother and father talking yesterday." Despite her serious tone, Kurt had to smile faintly; she was beginning to look like a child after his own heart. "They were talking about me."

"Angie, your mother already gave permission for you to learn archery," Kurt reassured her, wondering if she might be worrying needlessly.

"Father said that he didn't want me to go to court the spring after next," she burst out.

"Angie," Kurt said, relieved that it wasn't something worse. "Ladies have to come to court the spring of their eleventh year. Don't worry about that. Your father knows what protocol has to be followed; when the time comes, you'll come to the court at Lima just like everyone else."

"That's not all," she said, dropping Kurt's hand and kneading her own together. They had reached the archery strips, and Kurt began eyeing bows to see what one could fit her best. He was listening only halfheartedly; he assumed that it was normal for girls to be nervous about going to court, but Angelica needn't worry – Westerville had been rising in prestige for many years. "He said to mother that it was something about Blaine."

This caught Kurt's attention. He looked up at her sharply. "What about Blaine?"

Angelica finally raised her head to look at Kurt, worry written into her emerald eyes. "He said that he didn't want me to go to court because…because something happened to Blaine. He said that he doesn't want two of his children to…to…Kurt, I don't understand. What's wrong with Blaine?" She began to worry her bottom lip. "This is why you can't tell him – why you can't tell _anyone_. I don't want to get in trouble, but I want to know what happened to Blaine. He isn't sick, is he? Will he be okay?"

Kurt's mind raced, clouding his thoughts. This was the second time that he wondered if he and Blaine hadn't been subtle enough, the first being with Aunt Vivienne. This was considerably worse. There had been a part of him that wanted his aunt to know; now, he'd give anything to banish his misgivings. "N-nothing is wrong with Blaine," Kurt said. He made a mental note to talk to Blaine later. Without mentioning how he'd found out, he'd hint at the matter. "Blaine's perfect; you know that, Angelica." She smiled feebly. "Maybe your father is talking about how much Blaine grew up since he left Westerville. Perhaps he just wants his little girl to be his little girl forever, hmm?"

Her smile grew hopeful. "Yes!" she exclaimed brightly. "That's probably it, since nothing is wrong with Blaine." She looked up at him bashfully. "I'm sorry for being so worried…"

"Don't be," Kurt said, forcing a smile. Unfortunately, his misgivings couldn't be banished as easily as hers could. "It's better to worry too much; I say that to Blaine all the time."

"Blaine doesn't worry about anything at all," she said with a smile. "He's so brave…I wish I could be as brave as him someday."

"You are brave," Kurt told her, placing a small bow into her hands. "Asking me that question was brave, you know." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I think we have a job to do, don't we? Come on, this way. You can practice from close up at first."

Kurt wasn't sure how much time had passed before he and Angelica left the archery strips. The sun had risen high in the sky and he was beginning to get hungry, which meant that it was sometime around the noontime hour.

They were on their way back to the castle, chatting animatedly, when they were approached by Blaine, who was looking tired and trampled. The sight of him elicited a burst of laughter from Kurt. "Did you _just_ wake up?" Kurt asked. His hand reached out to tug at one of Blaine's erratic curls before he realized that they weren't alone. He drew it back quickly, but Angelica was still laughing at her older brother.

"Kurt and I have been up for _ages_," she told him. "He's started to teach me archery!"

Blaine smiled at Kurt and poked playfully at the hair Angelica had piled up on top of her head. "Look at you," he said fondly. "I feel obligated to inform you that you look ridiculous."

She gasped and shook her finger at him. "I think the word you were looking for is…effificent…eccefant." Impatiently, she turned around to Kurt. "Kurt, what's that word? When something works very well for something else?"

"Efficient," he supplied.

She turned back to Blaine, arms crossed defiantly. "Efficient," she finished informing him.

"Oh well, I'm sure it's that as well," he told her as her affronted mask fell away to giggles. He put an arm around her shoulders and began walking toward the castle. "Angie, I hope you don't mind if I steal Kurt from you after lunch," he said, shooting Kurt a hooded gaze that made Kurt's heart skip a beat.

"Where are you going?" Angelica asked, shooting wide eyes at her brother.

"Lenis," he answered her simply.

Her face lit up in a smile. "Oh, Kurt, you'll love Lenis! It's so beautiful. It's deep as well; someone from the village says that something lives in the middle of it, but I don't believe it. That isn't true, right Blaine? Is it?"

"You have a monster in your woods _and_ in your lake?" Kurt asked teasingly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"You haven't mentioned the magical grapevine pixies yet, Angie," Blaine said sarcastically. "Folk tales get sillier the farther into the country you go. I'll have to tell you some of the ones I heard about Ashtabula one day."

Angelica merely shrugged off her brother's comment and continued to tell Kurt about the types of flowers that grew in the fields around the lake, adding commentary on which ones were best for flower chains.

"It isn't as if I have been on the archery strips all day," Kurt mused sarcastically as he and Blaine trekked through the grounds of Westerville half an hour later. "It isn't like I haven't had a chance to eat…_anything at all_ since I woke up."

"And whose fault is that?" Blaine asked him with a wry smile. "I'm carrying almost everything, you shouldn't be complaining."

"But Blaine, you're so _strong_," Kurt said slyly, pouting lip curling into a sideways grin. "And I'm weak with hunger, so it only makes sense. I can't believe that you didn't let me eat anything before coming out here."

"It would have ruined your appetite," Blaine insisted, "and I'd have packed this picnic for nothing."

"Speaking of packing a picnic," Kurt said uncertainly. He looked around them for people that may be nearby. They were on their way to Lenis Lake, as Blaine had said. The village was in the opposite direction, so they just had to walk through the castle's winding gardens and go through the back gate before they reached the winding dirt path that led to a fork, the left branch of which went to the lakeside. "How often do two friends bring picnics to the lake?"

"Not a lot of villagers go to the lake at all, as far as I remember," Blaine answered in a monotone. "I don't know why. I was never allowed out here by myself when I was younger, but from what I remember, it's just perfect." One triangular eyebrow arched. "Perfectly deserted."

"Deserted and less than a mile from the village," Kurt said with a shake of his head and a rueful smile. He heard Blaine let out a small sigh, but didn't delve deeper into the subject. Kurt knew that he was right, and that if he did start to do anything with Blaine, inhibitions would fly out of his mind. He had to be clear-headed _now_. He wouldn't be able to think about who might be walking down the dirt path to them if Blaine was pulling all thoughts out of his brain and considerably farther south.

They walked for a few more minutes until they reached the lake edge. Kurt began to put his load down – he'd been relegated to carry the blanket they would spread out on the ground – but Blaine continued down the edge of the lake. "Er…Blaine?" Kurt asked, quickening his pace to reach Blaine's side once more. "Where are you going?"

Blaine smiled mysteriously, facing straight ahead. "You'll see," he answered cryptically.

Kurt frowned slightly but followed without protest. After almost ten more minutes of walking by the lakeside, they came to a copse of trees that crowded out the bank. "Lovely," Kurt said dryly. "Are we wading the rest of the way, then?"

"No need," Blaine said gleefully. "We're here." He walked up to the nearest tree, a willow, and pulled back the long, thin branches, which swept against the ground.

Hesitantly, Kurt inched forward until he was able to cross through the curtain of branches that Blaine held back. Only then did he turn his eyes on what awaited them there, and Kurt couldn't stifle a gasp. The water's edge extended back in a way that Kurt hadn't been able to see from the other side; a clean, secluded bay, framed by fine rock, spread out within the shelter provided by the willow vines, making a perfectly concealed enclave. The sunlight filtered through the top of the large tree, casting a soft glow over the entire area.

"Perfectly deserted," Blaine repeated with a smirk.

Shaking his head playfully, Kurt reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Blaine's arm to pull him close. "You forgot to mention hidden," Kurt teased, drawing forward so his lips brushed off of Blaine's as he spoke. He placed a feather-light kiss on Blaine's lips and pushed him back slightly so that Blaine was left leaning toward him and rocking slightly on his feet.

Kurt set down the blanket on the gravelly ground and proceeded forward to the water's edge. "It's perfect," Kurt remarked, trailing his fingertips through the water.

"The whole lake is like that," Blaine said. Kurt could hear him fiddling around behind him, presumably flattening out the large blanket. When Kurt turned around to face him, he was already sitting cross-legged. "At least, it is at this time of the year. It's colder in the winter and spring." His smile grew wide and Kurt noticed how he suddenly bit down lightly on his bottom lip. "Do you…I mean, do you, perhaps, want to take a swim?"

Kurt suddenly flushed. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Blaine's hopeful expression fell away, leaving Kurt feeling like he'd just stolen something important from him. "Why…I…we'd see people coming before they noticed us, Kurt. We could swim back before they even realized that there were other people here at all."

"That isn't it," Kurt said, glancing away. He slowly approached Blaine and sat down next to him. "I…I can't swim."

He was met with silence for several long moments. Blaine made a strangled noise and when Kurt looked up with a glare, he saw that Blaine was stifling laughter. "It isn't funny!" Kurt exclaimed, a moment of weakness making him slap his fist onto his knee like a child. "I never needed to at Lima. We don't have a lake like this, and even bathhouses are too shallow to need to learn." He crossed his arms across his stomach stubbornly, cheeks still red, and looked even farther away from Blaine.

"Kurt," Blaine said gently, voice shaking from held-back laughter. Kurt almost turned to look at him, but remained looking away obstinately. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind and pry apart his arms so that each of his hands was held in one of Blaine's. A moment later, he felt soft breath ruffling his hair as Blaine whispered in his ear: "I can teach you."

"But I'm hungry," Kurt persisted, resolve crumbling. In all honesty, swimming would be a handy talent, as silly as it was. He felt ridiculous for not knowing how already.

"Grab something and eat it while I explain, then," Blaine said, springing to his feet and quickly removing his shirt.

Kurt mumbled something and dug through the food Blaine had brought until he located a bread roll that he knew had bits of meat and cheese baked into it. When he looked up, Blaine had not only removed his shirt but was working on the ties of his pants as well. "Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed in surprise, gaping at the other man. "What are you doing?"

"You think that two men eating at the lake would be suspicious, and coming back with soaking wet pants isn't?" Blaine asked with a chuckle. "Like I said, if we see someone coming, we can swim back here. It isn't as if you haven't seen me…like _this_ before." His sure expression faltered. "Unless…unless you don't…if you're uncomfortable…I can say I fell in when we get back, or make up something else…"

"No, Blaine," Kurt said, smiling at Blaine's sudden panic. He stood and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. "You're perfect. You're beautiful…you're delicious." Blaine looked confused for a moment, but the expression vanished when he saw Kurt leaning in toward him. Mischievous smile on his lips, Kurt swerved his head at the last moment and took a bite out of his roll, which had still been in his hand when he had come up to Blaine. "Mmm," he murmured with his mouth full. "_Delicious._"

"You're a _tease_," Blaine said, shaking his head at Kurt while Kurt smirked at him. "Come on, tease."

Still chuckling to himself, Kurt followed Blaine's suit and released himself of his own clothes. He flushed slightly and looked away bashfully as he walked to the water's edge; Blaine watched his progress with a rapt expression, eyes never leaving his face, as Kurt immediately noticed.

"What now?" Kurt asked, popping the last of the roll into his mouth. He walked with Blaine out of the cover of the tree, water growing ever deeper.

"Try to float," Blaine told him. "I've got you. Relax…spread out your arms and legs…take a deep breath."

Still feeling uncertain, Kurt turned onto his back and tried to make both his feet and hands stay at the water's surface without his hips sinking downwards. Staying relaxed, spreading out his arms, and breathing at the same time seemed to succeed only in making him sink more. "This isn't working. I look like a fool."

"A very charming fool," Blaine remarked. Kurt felt Blaine's hands slide down his back and suddenly it was much easier to stay floating.

"You had better watch your words, Sir Blaine, or I'll make _you_ my fool." He tipped his head backward to look at Blaine, whose head was hovering above Kurt's.

"I apologize," he whispered, leaning closer. "I meant a very charming prince." Blaine closed the space until their lips met in an upside down kiss. "This is familiar," he remarked with a light chuckle after they pulled apart.

"What next?" Kurt asked eagerly, ignoring the comment and flipping around to look at Blaine.

"Use your newfound floating skills to keep yourself on top of the water, and just move your arms around like this." He demonstrated. "Or this." Suddenly, he began moving his arms in a different manner. "Or this." Again, he began to move them differently.

"Alright. _Alright_, now you're just showing off." He pushed off the ground and began to move his arms around frantically as he was propelled forward. For a moment, he thought that it was working. His immediate sinking in the next moment disillusioned him. "I'm obviously not made for swimming," Kurt muttered dejectedly, pushing his water-soaked hair out of his eyes.

"You just need practice," Blaine told him, swimming over – much to Kurt's annoyance – and wrapping him up in his arms – much to Kurt's delight.

"Speaking of that," Kurt said, leaning his face into the side of Blaine's water-slicked neck. Kurt could feel the entirety of their bare bodies pressed together under the water and yet he tried to hold Blaine even closer, as if when the barrier of skin could disappear he'd finally be satiated. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

He leaned his head up to kiss Blaine with a force he could tell Blaine hadn't been expecting. Kurt's hand traveled to the base of Blaine's skull to support his head as he pushed harder into their kiss. "S-sure," Blaine stuttered breathlessly after Kurt pulled away. "Anything."

Kurt didn't speak immediately but kissed Blaine again. Heart pounding fiercely in his chest, he moved his hips up to Blaine's and pushed down against him so that they brushed against each other briefly. For a split second, Kurt felt Blaine arch into him in reciprocation. Almost immediately after that, Blaine let out a strangled gasp; his hand quickly found Kurt's chest and he pushed him away almost harshly. "W-What are you doing?"

"That's what I'm talking about," Kurt persisted, moving closer to Blaine even as Blaine backed away a few more steps. "You can't tell me that for that brief moment, before panic concerning the unknown set in, that didn't feel good. You can't say that a part of you doesn't want to try it again – to try _other _things."

"I…I mean, it did…feel good," Blaine said, looking away from Kurt and at the surface of the water instead.

"You said I just have to practice swimming," Kurt continued. Blaine stopped walked backward and Kurt approached him and grabbed his hand. Softly, his lips brushed against the back of it. "That's how you figure out everything, Blaine: you experiment and you practice. You would still be crawling if you hadn't gotten on two feet one day instead."

"That isn't the same thing."

"You're right," Kurt agreed quickly. "You're right, because people were walking on two feet long before either of us. We're not going to find someone who can explain how to make…_us_ work, Blaine. We're not going to find help; the only help we have is each other." He pressed the hand he was holding against his heart, which was still beating ferociously in his chest. "I'm scared, just as scared as you. I love you, Blaine. I'd go anywhere with you; I'd explore anywhere that presented itself, as new and frightening as they might be."

"I love you too," Blaine whispered. He finally tore his eyes away from the water and looked up at Kurt. "But I don't know. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I don't know _anything_, how many times should I say that?"

"Neither of us knows anyth—"

"What if I do something and you don't love me anymore?" Blaine blurted out. "What if I do something wrong? What if I _hurt_ you? What if it just doesn't work? What if people are right, Kurt? What if two men just aren't supposed to be together?"

Kurt was taken aback. "You're afraid…that I won't love you anymore?" He shook his head slightly. "Why are you saying all of those things? You weren't afraid about getting in the water without any clothes. You aren't afraid of us kissing. You aren't afraid of spending the night."

"But we've done all those things before." Blaine squeezed his eyes shut. "All those things are simple, and you _know_ that. What comes next is…well, I don't even know what to say it could be."

Kurt smiled sympathetically and lifted a hand to brush aside Blaine's dripping curls from where they touched his forehead. "That's just what I've been saying," he urged. "We have to find out."

Eyes still closed and cheek leaning into Kurt's hand, Kurt felt Blaine shake his head a fraction. The words came out in the quietest of whispers: "I hate not having all the answers. I just want to be perfect for you. I just want to _know_."

Kurt's teeth clenched in mild annoyance but he tried to regain his composure. He didn't say anything, but his thumb brushed lightly over Blaine's cheek. A few more seconds passed in silence, with Kurt growing more and more impatient. Lightly, his hand began to trace downward over Blaine's collarbone, chest, and ribs. Under the water, he felt Blaine's free hand catch it and stop its progress.

Frustrated, Kurt yanked away both the hand that was underwater and the one that held Blaine's hand to his heart. He turned and began to walk back to where his clothes were. "You're moving backwards," Kurt said over his shoulder. His chest felt constricted and there was a horrible stinging sensation at the corners of his eyes. "A-aunt Vivienne always says that you have to change if you don't want to be left behind. She says that change is _good_. I can't move backward, Blaine."

He'd reached the shallower water inside the willow clearing before he felt a strong grip latch onto his arm and spin him around. Before he could get out a word of protest, Blaine's lips crashed down onto his. He held Kurt's upper arms in his hands tightly and pulled their upper bodies close together. "What's this?" Kurt managed to ask between Blaine's fierce kisses.

"In the five seconds you were walking away," Blaine panted. "I had…well, five seconds to think briefly on what it would be like if I didn't stop you and you didn't walk back. It wasn't a very good five seconds."

Kurt sighed heavily. Blaine's hands let go of his arms as they moved to go around him, slipping as they tried to find purchase on the wet, slick skin. Kurt clung to Blaine as Blaine's hands moved up to cup his face and brush through his hair as he pushed into their kiss.

"You were right," Blaine told him, his hand gently tilting Kurt's head back. His lips found the soft skin on the underside of Kurt's jaw and worked their way across the porcelain skin, nipping at his neck and making Kurt gasp. "Before I started to think too much about it…it did feel good." A genuine cry escaped Kurt as he felt Blaine thrust forward against him. Blaine's initial reluctance had dampened Kurt's former excitement, but his touch reinvigorated it tenfold now.

"Singing…a different tune…are you?" Kurt asked, fully aware that he was currently trembling head to foot.

"From now on," Blaine said, pushing Kurt farther out of the water. "Only one tune…"

Kurt wanted to say that he agreed wholeheartedly but coherent words had escaped him entirely. Arms and legs intertwined, they stumbled out of the water and toward the blanket, where the food lay forgotten. Kurt landed on his back, hands never leaving Blaine. They traversed the plains of his body, from his ebony head of curls to the indented skin of his hipbones.

Getting leverage from the ground, Kurt turned their bodies until Blaine's back was to the ground and he was leaning on his chest. He took a moment to grin at Blaine slyly before tossing a leg over his waist and lining up their hips. Heart pounding once again, he moved slowly and purposefully against Blaine. His eyes darted up just in time to see Blaine's eyes flutter close and his head twitch to the side. "Blaine…"

"Kurt," Blaine muttered, the end of the name getting lost as he simultaneously arched upward with his hips and reached behind Kurt's neck to bring him down until his mouth could reach Kurt's neck. His lips traveled around until he felt the dip of Kurt's collarbone, and he sucked at it sharply.

Kurt let out a ragged noise, his head arching backward momentarily. A hand slipped behind the small of Blaine's arched back to push them together. "Blaine," Kurt pleaded, free hand grappling at arms and shoulders that were now sweat-slicked, trying to bring Blaine closer to him. "You…you…your…"

"Why Kurt, I do believe you're speechless," Blaine teased, teeth gliding over the sensitive spot he'd just sucked at.

"No…it's just your turn," Kurt said with a grin that already looked self-satisfied. He pushed back from Blaine, lifting his hips away. Cool air flooded across him, and Kurt would have welcomed the static heat of Blaine's body again. However, he didn't return. His lips and tongue traveled down the path of Blaine's body, reaching every inch of burning, glistening skin. Kurt's fingertips traced over him lightly as well, finally settling on either side of Blaine's hips. "This time…" Kurt began, "no more 'I don't know'."

Blaine didn't say anything, but Kurt saw him nod his head once. Their chests were heaving with both adrenaline and nerves. The sound of his heart echoed throughout Kurt's skull as his pale eyes traveled away from Blaine's amber eyes and to his length. Before he could second-guess himself again, Kurt pressed his lips to the tip questioningly, opening his mouth only marginally to sink down ever so slightly.

He suddenly realized that he couldn't exactly ask Blaine if it felt right, so the quick inhalation of breath and the way Blaine knotted his hands into the blanket beneath him were a welcome sign. Encouraged, Kurt sunk down on Blaine farther, his mouth opening to accommodate Blaine's length. He drew back with a _pop_ that startled him and took the opportunity to look up at Blaine. "A-are you…is that…is it…"

Blaine's head was pressed against the ground, his eyes were still closed, and his breath came erratically. "Yes," he said with a burst of air. "Kurt, yes, yes…"

Kurt didn't need to be encouraged twice. This time without hesitation, his head bent down again. Releasing inhibitions, he did the first thing that came to his mind. His tongue flicked out and teased at the head before running up and down the length.

When Blaine started to mutter incoherently, Kurt took him into his mouth entirely again, this time going farther down and pulling up again as he sucked in, setting a steady motion. Soon, one of his hands joined his mouth, moving in time and reaching the space his mouth just couldn't extend to. He began moving faster, fingernails digging into Blaine's hip.

He could feel his own need throbbing almost uncomfortably between his legs, but Kurt pushed the thought out of his mind as soon as it entered. A sizzling current had begun to course throughout his body, starting at where his lips were making contact with Blaine's skin. He could hear Blaine making noises, but the dull roar in his ears almost blocked it out. He did hear Blaine moan extra-loudly as his hips bucked upward into Kurt's mouth. Kurt took the action in stride.

"K-Kurt," Blaine breathed. "I think…I think I'm about to…"

His hand reached Kurt's shoulder as if to push him away, but Kurt muttered "nnnn," and slapped Blaine's wrist away as he increased his pace even more. "K…Ku…uhh…wha…oh," his protests dissolved into panting moans, which changed to sharp cries as he reached a climax.

He released into Kurt's mouth a moment later with a jagged cry and Kurt swallowed it down, doing what only felt natural. He continued for a few more seconds before he could start to feel Blaine growing flaccid. He drew away and crawled on hands and knees until he was hovering over Blaine, who was laying there with his eyes closed and head resting to the side.

Kurt bent around to Blaine's lips, tongue darting outward to trace against his lip and beg entry. Blaine turned to him, eyes still closed, and Kurt kissed him deeply and slowly, letting his tongue trace over the inner contours of Blaine's mouth.

"Mmm…bitter," Blaine remarked, causing Kurt to crack a smile. His amber eyes slid open and Kurt was extremely pleased to see that they were still blown out with lust at the sight of him. Blaine's hand lifted from where it had momentarily rested on Kurt's knee; it trailed up his thigh ever higher, making Kurt near to moaning at the very thought of contact. "You…you need…"

"We need to go back," Kurt interrupted him, as painful as it was to stop what they had going.

Blaine looked at him in confusion. "But you're…"

"I need you in a bedroom," Kurt said, hand tangling in Blaine's curls and bringing his lips upward. "I need a lock on the door. I need a place where we can stay all day. You…are mine…forever. God, you're…you're just _perfect_. L-let's go – now, let's go." He rolled off of Blaine and tugged his pants on painfully, only wincing when Blaine couldn't see him.

When he looked around, Blaine's pants were already on. "And I want to be everything for you," Blaine said breathlessly, leaning his forehead against Kurt's briefly after they both stood up. "Anything and everything."

"I don't plan on letting you go any time soon," Kurt whispered heatedly, dipping in to kiss Blaine again. "Or ever…I h-hope we don't meet anyone on the way back. I think we'll have some trouble explaining." They both laughed giddily. They were both water-drenched and sweat-drenched. Kurt's clothes had immediately stuck to him and had almost soaked through entirely; his wet skin was collecting dirt, though he'd never been directly on the ground. Whether they met anyone on the way back or not, Kurt planned on keeping Blaine in his room for a quite a while.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Before anyone asks: this scene does have a part two, which will be continued at the beginning of next chapter. I've never, ever written anything like this before, and since I was the one who wrote it...well, I have no idea if it's any good. Feedback would be much appreciated and hopefully I'll get better with practice ;)_


	14. Chapter 14 :: Lord Ander's Surprise

_Autumn, 629 A.D.; Westerville, Algania_

The walk home was the longest half hour of Kurt's entire life, or so it seemed. As they progressed along the road, he kept stealing surreptitious glances at Blaine, who always returned his gaze along with a maddeningly sly smile. Several times, Kurt had to stop himself from going to Blaine right then and there, on the dirt road to the castle.

They reached the castle without meeting anyone. Kurt had just mentally thanked the powers that had led them there uninterrupted when he almost ran into one of the last people he wanted to see, especially in his current state.

He exchanged a quick glance with Blaine before turning to look at the third man. "Bellator," Kurt greeted him. Much to his chagrin, his voice came out squeaky and broken.

It did not escape the captain's notice. He smirked at Kurt and raised a questioning brow in Blaine's direction. "What _happened_ to you?" he asked finally.

Uneasy silence fell. Kurt was determined not to look at Blaine again. His cheeks were already an embarrassing shade of pink. He feared, perhaps irrationally, that one glance at his lover would tell the intelligent captain all he could ever know.

"We…ate lunch…outside," Blaine said slowly.

Bellator raised his eyebrow even higher. As his sharp silver eyes travelled to their empty hands, Kurt felt a twinge of panic. They had left the basket – still full – and the blanket at the lakeside.

"Of course." Kurt closed his eyes patiently as Bellator spoke in a pandering tone that picked at his nerves. The captain turned his silver eyes over Kurt once more and then back to Blaine. "Lord Ander wishes to see you." His gaze flickered uncertainly and Kurt's eyes snapped open as he thought he heard a tremor in the captain's voice. "Both of you, in the reception room."

"The reception room?" Blaine asked. "But Fortis…why?"

Bellator shrugged, and his gaze continued to shift uncertainly. "I wish I could tell you." He paused, his expression conflicted. "You two look like hell. I'll stall him for a few minutes; just go wash off, as quickly as you can."

Blaine gave Bellator a grateful look, but Kurt just turned and brushed past him. If the captain was ill at ease, Kurt could hardly fathom what the lord had to say. He heard Blaine murmur something to his friend, but Kurt didn't turn.

When he heard Blaine rush to his side, Kurt finally spoke: "That's…unfortunate." He breathed out sharply and ran his hands over his face. "You don't have anything to say?"

"No."

"Blaine…"

"Kurt, you don't know my father."

Kurt looked at Blaine hesitantly. "That reminds me…" His words faded out.

"Yes?" Blaine prompted.

"I heard something interesting earlier today." They reached their rooms and Kurt pulled Blaine inside. He grabbed the other man's hand tightly and looked down into his searching, amber eyes.

"Alright…interesting wouldn't happen to be good in this case, would it?"

"I don't know." He wrapped his arms around Blaine and leaned down to put his head on Blaine's shoulder. "I heard something about your father not wanting your sister to go to court when she's old enough. That the court changed you, which is ridiculous in and of itself, since you were only there for a grand total of a few weeks."

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted. "If there's a point, you should get to it soon."

"Right, yes. This…person said that it was something he didn't want to happen to both of his children." Kurt gripped his arms a little tighter but lifted his head to look at Blaine once more. "What does that mean? What if…what if he knows?"

He felt Blaine stiffen in his grasp. His hands found Kurt's shoulders and he drew back. Kurt watched him walk to the wash basin and splash some water over his face and arms to get the dirt off. "He doesn't know," Blaine said strongly. "He couldn't know. We just got here not too long ago. He couldn't know."

Kurt didn't say anything. He tossed off his dirty shirt and purposefully drew on a dark blue one – one of the Westerville colors. "Whatever you say," he responded finally.

Blaine was bracing himself against the wash basin, giving away his distress. Kurt leaned in and kissed him softly at the base of his ear. "But if he does know. _Just say that he does –_" Kurt cut Blaine off as he began to protest. "You should already know that it doesn't change anything, but I'll tell you again just to be sure." He waited until Blaine turned to make eye contact. "That doesn't change anything." Blaine didn't say anything else, so Kurt put his arm around his shoulder and began walking toward the door. He leaned over and kissed Blaine's cheek lightly before dropping his arm and opening the door.

"For me either," Blaine whispered as Kurt exited. His hand reached out and brushed the retreating fabric of Kurt's shirt as he moved away toward the reception room.

Kurt kept walking for a few steps but when he turned around he was smiling. "Come on then," he said, beckoning for Blaine to catch up with him. "If we don't get there quickly, he'll think that we went off for a little romp in the hay before the meeting."

Blaine's mouth fell open in shock, and he gaped at Kurt, who began to snicker into his closed fist. "Kurt," Blaine said a too loudly, his tone stunned. "You can't _joke_ about that! I cannot believe you said that…" Still muttering about the solecism of it and shaking his head in disbelief, they progressed toward the reception room.

When they reached it, Captain Bellator was just exiting. "Good timing," he said breathlessly. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but instead just nodded for them to enter.

"Father?" Blaine called out once they entered the room and Bellator had shut the door behind them.

"Here." Lord Ander was pacing the adjacent wall, examining a tapestry that hung there. "What do you think of this tapestry?"

"Uh…what?" Blaine asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"You heard me." Ander turned around and crossed the marble floor to an intricate arch that framed a window. "And this arch…it's beautiful, no?"

"It is," Kurt said, before Blaine could speak again. He stepped forward until he was at Lord Ander's side. His eyes traveled to the tapestry; he noted the double lined edges and rich indigo background. They then went to the arch, noting the absence of straight lines and abundance of curved ones, as well as the small flowering roses at the bottom corners and the way the arches stretched out like angel wings.

Slowly, a knowing smile spread across his face. "The tapestry," Kurt continued. "It's an Aliquet. He lives still, in France, where he was born." He continued looking straight ahead as Lord Ander turned to face him. "He's a painter, but he briefly tested the waters of tapestry making. He came to the court at Lima once, when King Paul took the throne. I assume it was to honor Aunt Vivienne and my father, since that is also where they hail from." He turned to look at Lord Ander. "Where did you get it?"

The lord was quiet for a few moments. "He passed through Westerville on his way to Lima. That was just before King Paul sent me to negotiate with the desert people. Westerville wasn't even a dot on the Alganian map back then. We had no money to pay him for one of his creations; he accepted bottles of custom wine for his work. Now how did _you_ know that?"

"And then there's the window arch design," Kurt continued, leaning forward to run his hand up the side of the carving. "It's by Caelo. Now, he must have died over a hundred years ago. I wonder how you got these arches here."

"Perhaps they are a clever copy," Lord Ander suggested.

"No," Kurt said assuredly, shaking his head. "Caelo copies can mimic the wings, but they can never convincingly reproduce the way he signs his work with these little roses, at the corners. We have his work at court; he's a brilliant artist. He was an architect for the Lima palace when it was first being built, by King Paul's grandfather. As for the tapestry, I could tell it was an Aliquet because of the double line that frames the picture. Most other modern artists claim that it looks too heavy handed. I don't know about that; I think Aliquet, at least, can pull it off."

"I agree," Lord Ander said, still surveying Kurt. "I'm impressed by your knowledge of such cultural matters. In regard to the arches, they were imported from a ruined Roman palace. I saw them at the royal palace long ago, and I had to have them for Westerville."

Kurt inclined his head and stepped back from the window, having proven the point he wanted to make. "Blaine, you never told me that the prince was versed in the arts," Ander said, looking at his son.

"I…I didn't know," Blaine said falteringly, looking at Kurt strangely.

"I make it my business to know such things. Especially after I decided to cease pursuit of knighthood, I had to have something to compensate."

"Ah yes," the lord said, nodding. "I had forgotten that you aren't a fighter."

"Kurt is a fighter," Blaine protested. Kurt saw him stand a little straighter and square his shoulders under his father's sharp gaze. "Just because he isn't a knight doesn't mean that he can't fight. He fought in the Algo-Lithuanian War just like the rest of us."

Blaine's father pursed his lips ever so slightly, but didn't respond to Blaine's jab. "I called you here and asked you about the tapestry and arches and such because I realized that there has been a dreadful lapse in decorum." He turned to smile at Kurt. "We never had a welcoming party for the prince."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Kurt said quickly, waving his hands.

"Father, we do that all the time at court," Blaine said, crossing his arms. "It would be just as well to do nothing."

"Believe it or not," Ander said dangerously. "I wasn't actually asking your permission, Blaine. I'm sure that the nearby nobles would be grateful to meet a prince without having to travel all the way to Lima, and some of the smaller fiefs might not get the invitation to do even that." He turned to look out of the window. "Prince Kurt, you're quickly leaving your teen years. You're a man, and I don't doubt that you'll have to take your responsibilities to your country onto your shoulders soon, since you haven't already." He paused. "After all, should King David pass away, God forbid it, you are the new king." When he turned toward Kurt, his smile was almost a smirk. "You'll want a wife and heir, to carry on the royal blood, won't you?"

Kurt knew that he didn't have a choice in his response. "Yes…I suppose I will." He didn't dare look at Blaine.

"Since you've had plenty of time to take a wife at the court at Lima, I can only assume you haven't because none have caught your interest. I shall extend invitations to all who would be eligible to come to this ball."

"Father, the high nobility sends their daughters to court, when that time comes," Blaine said pointedly. "We've met them already."

"The high nobility of Algania," his father agreed, "you're quite right; but did I say that they would be the only invitees? It just so happens that, as a noble Alganian diplomat, I am lucky enough to be connected to many important people in the surrounding countries."

"That isn't fair," Blaine protested. Kurt could tell that he was getting upset. He tried to shake his head in warning but Blaine was no longer looking at him, only at his father. "This isn't your job. If anything, this should happen at the royal court. You're overstepping your boundaries."

"But I'm only showing my gratitude," Lord Ander said calmly. "It's a gift. As I just found out, Kurt is quite versed in cultural diversity, but you could do with some education, my son. You should be thanking me."

"Thank you, Lord Ander," Kurt said quickly, cutting off Blaine. "I would be happy to accept your kind offer." He inclined his body in a shallow bow, which Blaine's father returned. "I'm sure that no one at Lima would object, and I'm quite looking forward to the opportunity."

"There, you see, Blaine?" Lord Ander said, beaming at Kurt. "The prince could teach you a thing or two about presenting yourself in a respectable fashion, the way you're expected to behave. We shall have a Winter Ball, then. I'll send out invitations immediately. You may leave."

Kurt inclined his head again and retreated, Blaine hot on his heels. They went down the hall in silence until Blaine couldn't contain his question any longer: "_Why_ would you say yes to him? Why would you say yes to that? Kurt, I thought you said…I mean, about me…"

"Why not say yes?" Kurt asked calmly, shrugging his shoulders. "By the way Captain Bellator had been acting, I was prepared for something dreadful. You just let things get to you Blaine, and you really shouldn't. I've dealt with people my entire life. I've seen King Paul, Queen Vivienne, my father, and Dave operating with public relations since before I can remember; I know what to do and not do. He probably wants to show Dave that he can be assertive. As for you, you can't really believe that I'd become enamored with any of the women that might be there, could you?" They were still walking through the halls so he couldn't reach out to Blaine, but Kurt gave him a soft, encouraging smile.

"Kurt, you do _not_ know my father," Blaine said, shaking his head. "He's trying to bait you. He does suspect something…about us. He is not doing this out of the so-called goodness of his heart, or even for ambition's sake."

"Don't you think you're being a little bit paranoid?" Kurt suggested gently.

"No," Blaine answered flatly. "He did this on purpose. Don't you see? The tapestry…the window…he's trying to find a flaw and demean you. If you turn down every girl in this nation and those on all sides…well, how do you think that will look? That's exactly what he wants."

"But if I don't love any of them –"

"People don't _marry_ for love, Kurt," Blaine said fiercely. "You've always been surrounded by people who don't fit the norm. You're sheltered. My father might have said that you were cultured, but you haven't really seen how things work for the rest of the world."

"Why are you so upset?" Kurt asked gently, figuring that there must be a reason that Blaine was acting up. He reached out and grabbed Blaine's arm, turning him around. To his surprise, Blaine's amber eyes were gleaming and over bright. "Blaine," Kurt said soothingly. Inhibitions floating away in the wake of Blaine's distress, he lifted a hand to run a thumb over Blaine's cheek. He gently wiped away the first glistening tear as it fell down his cheek. Making a sympathetic noise, Kurt drew Blaine toward his chest in a hug. "What's really wrong? You can tell me."

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's torso and held onto him tightly. "What if you actually like one of them?" Blaine asked tearfully, burying his face into Kurt's shoulder so that his words were muffled. "What if you want to marry her? My father was right. One day, you have to do your duty to Algania; you have to marry someone and have an heir. One day, you have to leave me, no matter what."

"He'll never be right about that," Kurt said, rubbing reassuring circles across Blaine's back. "We've been apart more than we've been together, but we've already overcame so many things. You're right, I've been sheltered. But if anything, that just means that I don't hold politics as being more important than love. If I could marry you, I would, in a heartbeat. I'd do it right now." He kissed Blaine's temple.

"You know what?" Kurt asked suddenly.

"What?" Blaine asked wearily.

"Come here." He grabbed Blaine's hand and towed him to his room, heedless of who might see. Once there, he dug around inside one of his drawers until he found what he wanted.

He grabbed Blaine's hand again and pulled him toward the middle of the room, where there was plenty of floor space. "Blaine Anderson," Kurt said, still holding his hand. A smile began to pull at his lips but Blaine's expression remained confused. "First of all, you're extremely silly for thinking that I could ever love someone who wasn't you. I love _you_, just you. But second, I'd do pretty much anything to prove it to you – to _promise_ it to you."

Still smiling, he bent down on one knee. Realizing what Kurt was holding in his hand, Blaine's mouth fell open in surprise. "I know we can't get anyone to marry us legitimately," Kurt continued. "But maybe we could have a wedding of our own, one that no one but us has to know about. I want to show you – to _prove_ to you – that what you fear could never come to pass, in spite of what your father may or may not be trying to do." He paused and smiled up at Blaine. "Blaine…will you marry me? Please, _please_ marry me?"

Blaine laughed in disbelief and got down on his knees beside Kurt. He put his arms around Kurt's neck and leaned forward to press their foreheads together. "You don't think the rings will be a little suspicious?"

"We can just wear them in private," Kurt said. "We can put them on a different finger in public, so no one else will know. It can be our secret." He nudged his nose against Blaine's playfully. "So is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes," said Blaine, the beginnings of his laugh cut off as Kurt pressed their lips together.

"Good," Kurt said, sliding the ring onto Blaine's finger. He put his arms around the other man again, content to just absorb the look on his face. "Nothing can tear us apart, Blaine. I want to be with you forever."

"Maybe we will be," Blaine said, leaning into their next kiss. _Maybe we will be._

* * *

><p><em>AN: I feel a bit bad, Part Two didn't exactly work out on schedule. This whole chapter was kind of unplanned, actually, but I like to roll with my muse instead of fighting it. The party was originally going to a birthday party, but I like this angle better :) The ending came as a humongous surprise to me - I literally didn't see it coming until after Kurt said that he would marry Blaine if he could :D Unplanned as it was, I hope you liked it!_

_Also, I'm leaving on a two week holiday so I won't be able to update in that time, as I'll have no computer D: But I'll bring a notebook and hopefully I can write a bit so I can publish sooner when I get back :)_

_I hope everyone liked this (short -sorry!) chapter, and thanks for reading! :D_


	15. Chapter 15 :: Confession

_A/N: Major muse hit while I was on vacation, so without further ado I present you with the longest chapter yet by far!_

_Enjoy :)!_

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><p><em>Early Winter, 629 A.D.; Westerville, Algania<em>

As winter drew closer, and snow began dotting the landscape, Kurt and Blaine hardly spent any time apart. Lord Ander did not hint that he truly knew of his son's secret, and soon the two men began to believe that they had no reason to suspect he knew in the first place. Lord Ander _would_ periodically mention his impending Winter Ball, but only in conversational passing, and with Kurt's repeated reassurances, Blaine no longer feared the worst possible outcome that the event could bring.

As a consequence, Kurt and Blaine began to grow more complacent in the places they would show each other affection. Kurt was no longer cognizant of trying to refrain from gently touching Blaine's arm during supper, and more than a few times, they would sit together on a couch with their sides pressed together, even when there were other people in the room.

Oftentimes, both Kurt and Blaine would retire with Lady Gemma and Angelica to one of Gemma's sitting rooms after their evening meal while Lord Ander went to his own study to "care for matters of the state", as he said.

One such night, Kurt was sitting cross-legged on the floor in between the two girls while Blaine lounged on a couch, absentmindedly strumming a lap harp.

"You have to fold it down and hold the cloth for the first go-round, just so it doesn't move…but it's the second stiches that hold the thing together so well." Kurt muttered quiet and continuous commentary as he plunged the needle through the torn fabric of one of Angelica's dresses. He tied off the knot, turned the dress right-side-out, and held it up for Gemma's inspection. "You can't even tell it had a tear at all. The trick is using the same stitch the seamstress did."

"Unnoticeable," Lady Gemma muttered as she ran her pale, long fingers over the mended fabric. "Who on Earth would teach you such a thing? I'd have thought they wouldn't allow it, in an attempt to force a sword into your hand instead."

"I have an idea!" Angelica exclaimed. "Kurt can sew and I'll do the sword work."

"You'll find no objections here," Kurt said, tugging lightly on one of her long braids. "Sword fighting isn't my area of expertise." He turned toward Blaine's mother. "As for my teacher, her name is Daphne, and she's the best seamstress in Algania. She did Lady Carole's wedding dress!"

Lady Gemma's eyes lit up. "Oh, I wish I could have seen that dress!"

"Come to court with us when we return," Kurt pleaded, grabbing her hand briefly.

He looked up at Blaine for confirmation, to see Blaine smiling down at him. "You should, mother," he told her. "You'd just _die_ for the Queen's Garden. They have some of the rarest flowers we have knowledge of there."

"I don't know," she said wistfully. "Your father…"

"Then accompany Angelica when she comes," Kurt offered.

Gemma's expression brightened. "I haven't been since I was a girl myself," she said as she pondered it aloud. "Perhaps I will do that." She smiled at Kurt. "After all, I have to meet this Daphne you speak so highly of."

Kurt returned her smile, pleased with the idea. He had a feeling that Blaine's mother would get along with both Daphne and his Aunt Vivienne. Though truth be told, she reminded him more of his own mother, Lady Elizabeth.

The abrupt stop of Blaine's harp, which had, up until then, been constant background music, caught Kurt's ear. "I think I'm for bed," he announced, catching Kurt's eye as he stood. Kurt immediately understood; they'd already developed a system: Kurt would wait ten or fifteen minutes before following, so he wouldn't be conspicuous.

"Good night, my dear," his mother said, grabbing another torn piece of clothing and examining the stitching. She shot Blaine a meaningful look. "Don't forget about tomorrow."

"I won't," Blaine promised, as Kurt looked up sharply.

He looked between Blaine, Gemma, and Angelica, the latter of which had begun giggling madly. "What's tomorrow?" Blaine shook his head, Gemma smiled mysteriously, and Angelica collapsed theatrically on the soft, carpeted floor, hands clasped over her mouth as she giggled. Kurt's expression became affronted. "What? What's so funny? What's tomorrow?" One look at the elder two told him he would get nothing out of either of them.

Grin widening, he purposefully inched closed to the laughing girl. "Angie, what's happening tomorrow? You can tell me. You wouldn't keep a secret from me, would you?"

"Angelica," Gemma's commanding voice interrupted. As stern as she sounded, she was smiling when Kurt turned to her. She shook her head minutely at her daughter. "You won't have to wait long, dear," she told Kurt. She smiled wryly. "Only until tomorrow."

"Fine," Kurt said, flopping back against the base of a plush chair.

"Goodnight, mother," Blaine said, kissing his mother's cheek. "Sleep well, little monster." He hugged his sister and ruffled her tied back hair lightly.

"Now that Blaine's gone, we can talk about him as much as we want," Angelica said as soon as Blaine left, yet loud enough that he would still be able to hear her.

"Very funny," Blaine's muffled voice said. Their consequential chuckles outlasted his presence.

"Kurt," Angelica said, suddenly pensive.

"Hmm?"

"Is your mother dead?"

"Angelica!" Gemma exclaimed, shocked. "That is extremely rude!"

"It's alright," Kurt assured her. "It was a long time ago."

"If you're sure…I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I'm sure," Kurt promised with a nod. "Yes, she is. She died when I was five. Why the sudden curiosity?"

She shrugged. "You always talk about your father and the queen, but you never speak of your mother. Also because…well, because you almost seem like part of our family."

Kurt turned to Gemma, surprised, but she merely shrugged. "It's true. I've gotten used to you being here. I don't know what we'll do when you and Blaine return to court."

Kurt was still surprised, but also pleased. "Her name was Elizabeth, and unlike my father and aunt, she was from right here in Algania. She was Queen Vivienne's best friend. She was kind, and gentle – all the best things in a mother, she had them. She was a lot like you, Gemma." Upon seeing her reaction to his words, Kurt was glad that he had voiced his mental association.

"How'd she die?" Angelica looked deeply concerned, as if her words would make Kurt burst into tears at any given moment.

"She got sick and never got better," Kurt answered simply. "She was sick when I first met Blaine."

"You and Blaine met that long ago?" she asked curiously.

Kurt chuckled and nodded.

"Can you tell me about him when he was a little boy?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," she answered enthusiastically.

Kurt pondered for a moment – where to begin? – before beginning to address her request. "He snuck up on me and scared me, when we first met," Kurt started. "We were somewhere we shouldn't have been, eavesdropping – which I don't advise," he added hastily, eyeing Gemma. She merely chuckled and shook her head. "I was mad at him at first, for finding me when I was meant to be hidden. It didn't last long though. He was my best friend by the end of that summer, even though we didn't see each other for six years after that, and then another seven."

Kurt supposed his tone must have turned wistful, for Gemma was quick to speak. "He talked of you, you know," she announced. "When he got home, he talked my ear off for days about the kind prince he met, and the mischief you two made." She smiled ruefully. "I am sorry that you got separated for so long."

Kurt desperately wanted to ask her why Blaine had never returned to court. However, he got the sudden gut feeling that it wouldn't be wise to put Gemma in that position. "It hardly makes any difference now," he said instead. "Who knows? We might have gotten in one of those boyhood tiffs that stupidly last all through adolescence and adulthood until no one remembers what they had even fought about in the first place. I might have never met you." He grinned at Angelica, who beamed at him in return. In truth, he knew that he was greedy and would have wanted all of the time with Blaine that he could have accumulated, but there was no sense in saying as much out loud.

"Anyway," Kurt said, clearing his throat. "I should go to bed, too. If we have some mystery event going on tomorrow, I may as well be rested for it."

"Yes, go to sleep!" Gemma commanded.

Kurt stood and almost fell back to the floor when Angelica suddenly hugged him tightly around the waist. "I'll see you tomorrow, for this secret something you have going on," he promised her. Kurt extracted himself from her limbs and bowed jauntily to Gemma before exiting the room.

As curious as he was about the mystery taking place the next day, Kurt couldn't help it when his thoughts turned to Blaine. That tunnel vision carried him all the way to his own room in what felt like a second.

He approached his own door but changed his mind at the last moment and knocked lightly on Blaine's instead. "Come in," Blaine's voice echoed from inside.

Kurt cracked the door open and peered into the room. Blaine was in the corner, in the act of pouring a steaming bucket of water into an also steaming, almost full, and rather large bathtub that sat in the far corner of the room.

A slow smile spread across Kurt's face. "What is _this?_" He closed the door behind him and walked across the room. "Where did you get the hot water?" His eyebrows lifted as Blaine dropped a splash of liquid in the water that turned into bubbles when the last bucket of hot water was poured on top of it. "And the bubbles?"

Blaine smirked. "On my way back, I turned a corner to see two servants canoodling, their jobs completely forgotten," he explained. "I told them that if they heated up water for a bath, I'd forget that I ever saw anything."

"Sneaky." Kurt knelt down behind him and wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders. "Are you planning on taking this bath alone?"

Blaine turned around in his grasp and joined his hands behind Kurt's back. "What do you think?"

In answer, Kurt leaned forward teasingly until he felt his lips brush against Blaine's. He paused there for several beats, knowing that Blaine wouldn't move forward himself – he'd wait for Kurt's move. Instead, Kurt began to speak: "What are we doing tomorrow?"

He was pressed so close to Blaine that Kurt could feel the rumble of his chest when he laughed. "You don't get to know…until tomorrow." Playing Kurt's own game, Blaine slid out of his grasp and walked to his chest of drawers. He slipped his layered shirts over his head and stuffed them inside. "The water's getting cold."

Kurt shook his head and followed suit, undressing to his skin and sliding into the steaming, bubbly water in front of Blaine.

Immediately, a contented sigh escaped his lips and he leaned back against Blaine's chest. A wave of tiredness swept over him, one that wasn't banished even when Blaine leaned down and softly kissed the side of his face.

Kurt reached down until he found Blaine's left hand, and brought it out of the water. With the aid of soapy water, he slid the ring off of Blaine's middle finger, where it fit a bit too tightly, and onto his ring finger, where it fit perfectly. Surprisingly, it hadn't been difficult to find someone in the city who worked with jewelry and wouldn't ask questions about why he, a visitor of the lord's son, wanted to get two male rings fitted, one in measurements that were not his own. "That's better," he commented before doing the same thing to his own.

"My father asked me where I got it," Blaine confided, linking their left hands and raising them above the water line, so both rings were visible. "I said that they gave them out commemoratively, for doing brave deeds during the war. That way, it would make sense for you and I both to have one."

"Quick thinking," Kurt muttered, though he wasn't convinced that Ander would think he deserved such an award. He sunk a bit farther down in the warm water.

"I hate having to hide this," Blaine said. "I hate having to hide that I love you. I want to shout it from the rooftops. I want to tell everyone I meet. I want everyone to know that I got lucky enough to have you, when you could have had anyone you wanted."

"You know why no one can know those things," Kurt said, turning toward Blaine. "Shouldn't it be enough that we know how much we love each other?"

"It _is_," Blaine said passionately. "You know that that's the most important thing…"

"I know," Kurt said with resignation. "It's different." He paused pensively. "This might sound crazy…"

He felt Blaine sit up straighter. "Probably, but go on."

Kurt shrugged. "Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad if we _did_ tell someone, just one person." Blaine didn't respond, so Kurt kept talking. "Before we left, there was just a moment when I thought Aunt Vivienne might know. She said something else in the next moment that made me think she didn't, but I was surprised to find that I was a bit…disappointed that she hadn't figured it out. I think a part of me wanted her to know, just…so she would know."

Blaine was silent for a long time. "Just one person," he repeated finally, "for now." He was quiet again. "Kurt…what about my mother? I know you haven't known her for very long, but I've had my whole life to see her kindness, her understanding. You already know that she loves you…and she'd never say anything to my father, I know that for certain. I don't know…it's just a thought."

"We should do it," Kurt said quickly, grasping Blaine's hands. "You're right; she's one of the kindest women I know, and I don't believe she'd tell anyone." Kurt beamed at Blaine. "We'll tell your mother."

"Tomorrow?"

"After our mystery event," Kurt confirmed, leaning their noses and foreheads together. "I'm actually excited, for both things." He tipped his chin up so his lips caught Blaine's. The kiss started slow and soft; after a few moments, it grew deeper and Kurt's hand rose to the side of Blaine's face. His other arm looped around Blaine's neck and he felt Blaine link his arms behind his back. Kurt moved in closer suddenly, making hot, foamy water slop out of the bathtub and onto the floor.

"…Whoops," Kurt said innocently, grinning widely in apology.

"Now the floor will be all sticky," Blaine lamented, watching the bubbles spread out over the ground. All at once, he realized what he had said. He looked at Kurt, who was attempted to disguise his snickers, and slowly, Blaine began to laugh as well. He leaned toward Kurt again, meeting his lips even though they were often interrupted by Kurt breaking off in giggles.

"You aren't making this easy," Blaine whispered against Kurt's neck. His valiant attempts to send shivers up Kurt's spine with the hot breaths and feathery kisses on his neck were interrupted when he felt something foamy hit the side of his face. "Pfffft…Kurt, what on Earth are you doing?"

"Making you a bubble beard," Kurt said, using both hands to stick bubbles to the lower half of Blaine's face.

"How do I look?" Blaine asked haughtily after Kurt pulled away.

"Like an old man," Kurt said with a wicked grin.

Blaine smiled fleetingly. He wrapped his left arm around Kurt's neck and used his right to give Kurt his own bubble beard. "One day," he said as he finished, "we really will look this way, and we'll still be together. We'll be old and wrinkly and unable to fight, but you'll still be as beautiful as you are right now. You'll always be perfect in my eyes."

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, shocked at the sincere moment that had come out of his joke. He leaned in to kiss Blaine chastely. "Are you promising me forever? I don't think you can do that."

"I can," Blaine insisted, "and I will, and I won't settle for it any other way. Maybe by the time we're that old, people won't think it wrong for two men to love each other."

"Maybe," Kurt replied, though he wasn't convinced. He leaned in again, kissing Blaine more deeply this time. It tasted of bubbles and more water splashed out as their hands begun to travel over each other frantically, but Blaine no longer noticed nor cared.

Eventually, the bathwater began to cool, the bubbles faded away, and Kurt and Blaine made their way from the tub to the bed, hair still dripping. "I was just thinking," Kurt started contemplatively. His head was perched on Blaine's chest, and the other man softly ran his fingers through Kurt's wet hair.

"Oh no," Blaine muttered with a chuckle. "Should I prepare myself?"

Kurt tightened his grip around Blaine to hold him closer for a moment. "No, nothing like that." He was silent for a few seconds, his fingers beginning to trace light patterns over Blaine's stomach. "One day, we have to go back. I can't stay away from home forever. My family's there and it wouldn't be responsible for me to stay away much longer, especially since I've already been away because of the war. David doesn't even know I'm here; I can't imagine how he'd react when he finds out."

"Queen Vivienne can handle him," Blaine reassured him. "When we have to return, we'll just go back. It isn't such a big thing."

"It is," Kurt persisted, "because I don't want to leave. It's been like a dream, living here with you. Can't I just stay here forever?" He lifted his head up to plead silently, his blue eyes wide.

"Mmm, no," Blaine answered with a chuckle. He placed a kiss on Kurt's forehead. Kurt made an injured noise and lifted himself up until his lips met the edge of Blaine's jaw. "No," Blaine repeated. Kurt quickly kissed his earlobe. "No." He kissed Blaine's cheekbone. "No." The tip of his nose. "Not quite." The corner of his mouth. "Closer."

Kurt smiled as he pressed their lips together for several seconds. "Fine," Blaine acquiesced. "But only if you get to stay in my room."

"I think we can make an arrangement." He opened his mouth slowly, and his tongue flicked out to caress the underside of Blaine's lip as he drew their kiss out. His hand moved downward to settle on Blaine's hip, where his thumb pressed into the skin – still hot from the bathwater – and slowly traced a downward line.

As his fingers traced downward, his mouth moved as well. Kurt's breathing was shallow as he whisked over the line of Blaine's jaw and down his neck, to where he could feel the other man's pulse hammering against his skin. "You're not excited, are you?" Kurt asked teasingly before sucking hard at the skin there.

Blaine gasped breathlessly at the contact. His hand flew out to Kurt's torso, as if expecting to meet fabric with which to pull him closer. Instead, it met smooth flesh, hot from the bathwater and already slick with sweat. They hadn't put clothes on when they left the bathtub, so it was easy for Blaine to slip under Kurt more directly. "That was quick," he commented as his hip brushed past Kurt's hardness.

"Why are you talking?" Kurt asked, his mouth never fully leaving Blaine's. "Don't you think you're being a hypocrite?"

"No." Blaine ground his hips upward and arched his back to create friction between their slick bodies. "After all, this is _you_ we're talking about, you could just –"

His words were cut off when Kurt reclaimed his lips. Kurt pressed their bodies together and nipped lightly at Blaine's bottom lip, making the other man release his breath in little gasps. "Kurt?" Blaine asked breathlessly. Kurt could tell that he wasn't tense, so he didn't stop his mouth's course over Blaine's body. Kurt mumbled something against Blaine's collarbone in an answer. "Remember that thing you said before we got to Westerville…about locks and keys?"

Kurt paused in his wanderings. "Yes…"

"I've been thinking a lot about that."

"Oh no," Kurt teased, copying Blaine's words from earlier.

Blaine didn't laugh along with him. "I've been thinking that it isn't exactly true."

Kurt's brow furrowed. "How do you mean?"

"I mean –" Blaine hesitated, a fierce blush creeping into his cheeks. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and waited for Kurt to connect the dots. "You know, the _only_ way that it might not be exactly true…is if…"

Realization dawned on Kurt. _That._ "You don't think," he whispered softly. "_Could_ it? I – I don't know if it would…I don't want to…_force_ anything to happen." Kurt also began to blush.

"Weren't you the one who said we needed to experiment?" Blaine smiled when he saw that Kurt was trapped.

Slowly, Kurt returned the smile. "Yes, yes I was." He leaned in to kiss Blaine tenderly before pulling back and leaning their foreheads together. "I suppose the only question is _how_? Aren't they…not exactly a perfect fit?"

"I don't know," Blaine admitted after a moment of silence. His amber eyes were wide and trusting. "Try?"

Kurt couldn't believe what he was about to do, but he'd had an idea. He took a deep breath and traced his lips lightly over Blaine's chest and stomach, stopping just underneath his bellybutton. His right hand ran over the solid planes of Blaine's body, up to his face, where he held out his first three fingers. "Blaine," he requested softly.

Kurt assumed he guessed what he had in mind, because he felt Blaine's mouth close around his fingers. His tongue swirled around and between Kurt's digits. Kurt pressed his overheated forehead to Blaine's stomach, trying not to pant too hard. Blaine finally released him, and Kurt moved into a more centralized position over Blaine.

"Are you sure?" He needed to double-check to ease his own mind.

"Kurt, I'm always sure with you."

Kurt didn't say anything else. Carefully, he took his first finger, still wet with Blaine's saliva, and brought it downward. He teased the edge of Blaine's hole for a moment before sliding his finger in all the way. "Blaine?"

"I'm okay," Blaine said immediately. "It's different. Not bad, just different."

Kurt noticed that Blaine had tightened his grip on Kurt, in spite of his words. "Tell me if anything goes wrong…if it hurts," Kurt requested, beginning to move his finger to stretch out the space.

"I'm fine…you can…more," Blaine said between pants. Kurt was just about to try a second finger, first finger still moving, when Blaine suddenly gasped sharply and arched upward. Kurt looked up, startled. He had expected to see Blaine's face in some degree of pain, but his head was thrown back, and when he opened his eyes, Kurt saw that his amber eyes were blown out with lust. "Oh my….Kurt…uh…I…"

Kurt began to smile, suddenly feeling remarkably pleased with himself. Something he had done had made Blaine react like that, and Kurt wanted nothing more than for it to happen again. Second finger joining the first, he pressed upon the spot again.

This time, Blaine let out a sharp cry of elation. His leg hooked over Kurt to get into a better position. "Fancy that, it looks like I have you at my mercy," Kurt whispered into Blaine's neck as he worked his fingers around and make Blaine periodically gasp and whimper. "You're right, this was a good idea."

"Y-yes," Blaine stuttered. "I…uh, Kurt. Can you just…"

In answer, Kurt put in his third finger in to join the first two, moving them to loosen Blaine up and periodically brushing on the spot that made Blaine moan his name and breathlessly mutter incoherent words. "Stop…Kurt. Can you…can you…?"

All the while, Kurt had alternated between kissing and scraping his teeth lightly over Blaine's neck, relishing in every elated cry that came from his lover's mouth. The knowledge that he had the power to make Blaine feel like that was almost more satisfying than anything else…almost.

"I need something wet," Kurt muttered, rubbing his sweaty forehead against Blaine's shoulder. Listening to Blaine make little noises, Kurt had felt his own need build and build until he was just as desperate as Blaine was.

Blaine made a low sound in the base of his throat, and Kurt felt himself being pushed back onto his heels, his fingers consequentially coming out of Blaine. Blaine's fingertips slid down the length of his body, sending ripping shock waves through where they touched him. His tongue quickly followed, making its way down Kurt's chest and stomach until it engulfed his length in wet heat, causing Kurt to gasp out in surprise.

"That's…not quite what I meant," Kurt said breathlessly. His eyes began to roll back as Blaine's mouth moved up and down several times, sucking harder and working his tongue faster with each move until he pulled off with a sucking noise. He looked up at Kurt with a glassy, pleased expression that made the prince want to either kiss him fiercely or smack the expression away.

He chose the former path of action. Together, he and Blaine fell backward once again. Blaine's leg hooked over Kurt's hip. "Go," Blaine whispered quietly.

That urging was all Kurt needed, for the heat was building quickly inside of him. He pushed inside of Blaine, murmuring softly and brushing Blaine's hair back when he inhaled his breath in a hiss. Kurt braced himself with his hands and pulled almost all the way out before moving down again. He wanted to go faster but he held himself back for Blaine's sake. After all, he had no idea what it felt like to be that other person.

"Do I look like I'm made of glass?" Blaine asked. He tightened his leg's grip on Kurt's hips to bring him in even farther.

"We've never done this before," Kurt said, breathless from the emotions he was keeping penned. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Have you _been_ here the last half hour?" Blaine asked, lifting his hips to grind their bodies together. "I won't break. Just…_go_."

Blaine's hands lifted to brush back the wet hair from Kurt's forehead. Kurt looked up into his eyes to see confirmation of Blaine's words written there. With Blaine's legs around his waist loosely and hands braced on either side of Blaine's shoulders, Kurt began to move faster, setting a rocking rhythm with his motions.

Under him, he felt Blaine arching up to meet him as he came down faster and more forcefully. He would alternate between just brushing Blaine's sweet spot, making him moan pleadingly, and hitting it directly, making him cry out sharply in pleasure.

Kurt's eyes flicked downward just in time to see Blaine's hand moving to take care of his own need, but Kurt batted it away, never missing a beat. His own hand found Blaine's length and moved up and down to the rhythm they'd set with their hips. He lowered his head to the shell of Blaine's ear and let out his pent-up breath in a hot burst of air; he felt Blaine shiver underneath him, his head rolling to the side.

Kurt's lips followed Blaine's ear. "Mine," he whispered breathily. He brought their chests closer together. Their sweat-coated skin slid off one another's, each of them catching their breath in cries and gasps as they moved in unison.

Kurt could feel himself nearing a ledge, but he was determined to get Blaine there first. His lips moved to Blaine's mouth, and he began to kiss him deeply, teeth scraping over Blaine's lips and tongue moving out to dance against Blaine's as he leaned upward to meet Kurt's mouth.

"Kurt," Blaine moaned, breaking off suddenly. Without words, Kurt knew what he wanted to convey. Blaine made a completely unholy noise as he came hotly across their lower abdomens. Face pressed into Blaine's pectoral, Kurt kept moving both his hand and hips, until Blaine was soft and completely drained. A brief moment later, he felt a rush of heated release course through and out of him.

Kurt's arm – in fact, his entire body – suddenly felt extremely weak, but he rode that gliding feeling out until he was completely limp. Breathing labored, Kurt tenderly kissed Blaine's forehead, his closed eyelids, and his glistening cheekbones before extracting himself and untangling himself from their knot of legs.

He collapsed next to Blaine, who was lying virtually unmoving on the bed sheet. They sat in silence for several moments. Kurt could hardly believe what had just happened. Had he been dreaming? Surely nothing that happened in actuality could have been that _wonderful_. But he wasn't waking up – in fact, he was closer to falling asleep in spite of the stickiness spread all over his stomach.

Blaine turned over on his side and drew Kurt's body snug against his chest. "Wow," he said. "Just wow. Did you have any idea –?"

"That it could be so…wow?" Kurt shook his head, even though Blaine's eyes were closed. "No, I had no idea." He inched around until their foreheads touched. He looked at Blaine's graceful features until the fluttering of his long eyelashes signaled that he was opening his eyes. "We're making it work…how is that possible?"

"You mean when we aren't supposed to be able to?" Blaine asked, closing his eyes and smiling. "Who cares what we are and aren't supposed to do anymore?" Kurt hummed in agreement and snuggled up to Blaine. His entire body was still filled with post-orgasm bliss, and he never wanted it to go away. "We should go wash up."

"In a second," Kurt promised, though he didn't get up and he knew that Blaine didn't intend to either. In the end, he fell asleep just like that, and never happier.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Kurt awoke to light shining through Blaine's window and into his eyes. It was white and glaring, which could only mean one thing.<p>

Excitedly, Kurt kicked off the covers and rushed over to look through the window. A sparkling layer of snow lay like a blanket over the land, and soft flakes fell from high, white clouds.

"Perfect," said a soft voice that made Kurt jump in surprise.

"You're awake," he said, turning around toward Blaine. "I thought you would sleep away half the day." The corners of his lips quirked upward in a sly smile.

"No time for that," Blaine said, draping an arm across Kurt's shoulder and looking out at the snow. "Perfect – we have a crazy old man in the village…crazy he might be, but he always knows when the first big snow will hit. That's why we're doing this today."

"You're alright then?" Kurt asked, nervousness seeping into his tone in spite of how he tried to disguise it.

Blaine smiled at him and dipped in for a quick kiss. "We should make a habit out of that," he murmured against Kurt's ear. "I'm tired, sticky, and I think I'll be walking a little sore for the rest of the day, but it's the best kind of sore possible."

Kurt agreed, at least with the former two, and moved to the wash basin to finally clean himself up. "After this mystery event," Kurt started, running a wet cloth over the skin of Blaine's stomach. "We tell Lady Gemma, yes?" He threw the wet cloth aside and wrapped himself in Blaine's outstretched arms.

"If you're still in accordance," Blaine replied, running his fingers through Kurt's hair.

"Absolutely." Kurt smiled encouragingly and reached up his hand to lace his fingers through Blaine's.

"We had better get going, then." Blaine pulled away to move toward his chest of drawers. "Dress warmly."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "You keep dropping little hints like that. It's going to drive me crazy." He'd already gathered that they were going outside, but Kurt couldn't begin to imagine why. He didn't ask the question again – that would obviously get him nowhere – but he walked happily into his own room and began assembling layers.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, he and Blaine were walking out into the snowy grounds. "They must still be getting ready," Blaine remarked, looking around for signs of his mother and sister.<p>

Kurt, meanwhile, was trying to observe everything through squinted eyes. "How are we supposed to do anything out here when we can hardly see? The snow's too bright to look at."

Blaine began to chuckle – though Kurt hardly thought it an appropriate response – and took two items from an inner pocket. He kept one for himself and handed the other to Kurt. "Remember how you went to the village to find someone who could fit rings? And earlier, I mentioned that there was a man who could predict the first big storm? If you haven't already, you'll soon figure out that Westerville has an absurdly eclectic group of villagers. You'll find someone down there for almost every need you have. I got these from an old woman who's been here for _ages_ – she was around when my father was young. She makes all sorts of things."

Kurt grimaced and held up the object Blaine had given him through his thumb and forefinger, as if it would snap out and bite him. "What _is_ it?" He looked up at Blaine and blanched. The other man had tied them around his head so they sat like a snug pair of spectacles. "I am _not_ putting these on my face. Can you even see through them?"

"Of course!" Blaine said. "Oh come on, you'll be able to look at the snow without blinding yourself." He took the tinted spectacles from Kurt, who didn't put up a fight. "You just tie them back with the leather thong, like this." Kurt felt them tighten snugly around his head.

"There," Blaine said pleasantly, backing up and beaming at Kurt. "You look…well, the point is that at least you'll be able to see."

"Which is code for 'you look like a complete fool'," Kurt mumbled. "At least if the way _you_ look is any indication." In all honesty, he thought Blaine looked rather adorable. "Do I even dare to ask what all of this is for?"

Blaine opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by a childish squeak and a grown-up guffaw coming from behind them. "Kurt!" Angelica exclaimed as she skipped up to him. "Blaine gave you your spectacles." She paused for a moment before beginning to snicker. "You look even sillier than Blaine."

"Fabulous," Kurt said dryly. Only then did his eyes drift to Gemma, who had walked up with her daughter.

Blaine whispered, "Mama…" just as a burst of laughter escaped Kurt.

"Not a word," she warned, eyes twinkling in spite of her serious tone.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Kurt choked out as he tried not to laugh. The fact that he hadn't seen Blaine's mother in anything but elegant dresses certainly lent toward his amusement, but Blaine was also hiding a smile. Angelica, on the other hand, was observing them both with a half-wary, half-amused expression.

"Not that you would know, but sometimes dresses are just too cumbersome," Gemma defended herself. "You're lucky you get to wear things like this all the time." Both she and her daughter were outfitted in warm-looking quilted breeches and knee-high boots, large winter coats, scarves, and fuzzy ear warmers. In light of their overstuffed appearances, Kurt was suddenly feeling drastically underdressed.

"What on _Earth_ is going on?" he asked again as they began to walk. "Are we leaving behind noble life to go live as forest nomads?"

"If we were," Gemma said with a smirk as she fastened her own eyewear, "we _wouldn't_ be heading toward Tenebrarum."

"Again with that forest," Kurt said, throwing his hands up in the air. "One day, I plan on finding out what these tales are circulating for."

"But now," said Blaine as he paused in his walk to tie his sister's eyewear, "we have to show you your surprise."

"Speaking of that, where are they, Blaine?" Gemma asked.

"Where are what?" To the best of Kurt's knowledge, she was speaking nonsense.

"Fortis has them."

Kurt's face fell. "Captain Bellator is coming?" he asked, trying to keep his tone impassive. He couldn't see the look Blaine shot him through the glasses, but he was almost certain that the other man was rolling his eyes.

"One day, you'll get over this irrational dislike," Blaine said.

"No, he won't." Every quieted as Angelica spoke up against her brother. "He's jealous. Kurt wants to be your best friend."

Kurt's face immediately colored; what she said was more or less true. Blaine gaped at his sister momentarily before grinning and putting an arm around both her and Kurt.

"No one has to worry about that," he said. "I'll lay everyone's curiosity to rest by saying right now that Kurt is, forever has been, and always will be my best friend."

The prince was immensely embarrassed, but pleased in equal amounts. His face felt hot enough to melt right off, and a fizzing bubble of happiness settled low in his stomach. He was also embarrassed that Lady Gemma had witnessed such a weak moment, but when he glanced at her, she was beaming.

The quartet sank into comfortable silence for the next few minutes, until Blaine pointed up a hill and said: "There he is!"

Kurt didn't see what Bellator was holding until they reached him at the top of the hill. Blaine immediately sensed his unease, so he grabbed the largest smooth, wood carved sled from the captain and hauled it over to Kurt.

"We can go together at first. We'll go faster, but at least you'll have me to grab onto," Blaine said with a smirk.

Bellator laughed heartily. "But don't squeeze too hard, little prince," the captain said as he reached up to tug playfully on one of Blaine's curls. "You might pop that cocksure attitude right out of his ears."

"What a travesty that would be," commented Gemma noncommittally as she grabbed her own sled.

"Mama!" Blaine protested.

Kurt covered a giggle with his gloved hand. "I'll try to be gentle," he promised as he looked down the hill uneasily. "Are you sure…?"

"Positive," Angelica said, sitting herself down on a sled. "We do it ever winter. Here, watch me! Fortis, give me a push, please?"

Bellator tipped her over the edge of the hill, and Kurt watched with horror as she went speeding down. She gathered speed with each second, only to get the speed-wobbles at the bottom, tip over, and go rolling through the snow another ten meters, sending powder flying everywhere. Kurt gasped in horror, but the other three laughed as Angelica stumbled to her feet and gave them a wave and a toothy grin.

"Our turn!" Blaine called loudly, moving the sled up to the steepest part of the hill and hopping in front.

Hesitantly, Kurt got in behind him. "Snuggle up," Bellator teased as he wound up to give the sled a push.

Kurt frowned, and he was about to retort when the captain pushed them over the ledge of the steep hill.

In unison, Blaine let out a whoop of enthusiasm and Kurt let out a surprised squeak that almost turned into a frightened scream. A moment later, his arms were wrapped around Blaine's chest with unabashed tightness as he clung to him for dear life.

Kurt felt cold air whip through his previously neat hair, ripping it into discord. After his initial surprise, he opened his eyes with the expectation that the wind would make them sting, but the spectacles kept them perfectly shielded from the elements. In spite of their silly appearance, Kurt was suddenly immensely glad for them.

As they sped along, he felt a thrill of exhilaration bloom in his stomach and chest until it escaped him in a triumphant cry. A peal of laughter escaped him, and he loosened one of his arms so he could lift it up in the air.

When they came to the bottom of the long and steep hill, Kurt found that he was disappointed the hill had a bottom at all. He rolled off the wooden sled and onto his back, throwing his arms and legs out as far as they reached.

Blaine rolled out on his stomach next to Kurt. He, too, was laughing. His cheeks were flushed with pink and his gleaming teeth were exposed in a smile of heartfelt joy. Kurt felt the near-irrepressible urge to grab the front of Blaine's jacket, pull him close, and kiss him firmly on the lips, which were pink from the cold.

Blaine's eye had adopted a similar look; ever the cautious one, Kurt rolled away and got to his feet before they could do anything they would regret.

"How was it?" Blaine asked, following suit and grabbing the sled.

"Exhilarating," Kurt answered after a small pause. "Too bad the sled wasn't a bit smaller, I could've –"

"Look out!" Gemma's declaration interrupted Kurt's mischievous sentence. He looked up just in time to see her take a running start and hop into the sled on her stomach.

"No wonder she needs to wear breeches," Kurt said as he watched her in wonder. He vaguely wondered how many other people had gotten to see the lady of a respectable fief sliding through the snow on her stomach, her hair streaming out behind her.

"You have no idea," Blaine said. "Growing up, I never understood those children who had mothers that sat inside all day. Mine always seemed to be able to do everything on the face of the planet."

"Lucky," Kurt whispered with a twinge of jealousy. Blaine offered him an empathetic smile, but Kurt was glad that he didn't say anything.

* * *

><p>The rest of the morning passed in many swift rides and long hauls up the hill. By lunch, Kurt's legs were sore all over – he couldn't even begin to imagine how Blaine felt, though he disguised it well.<p>

After they ate, the group – minus Bellator, who said that since they all made it through the morning with their necks unbroken, his job was done – went back into the snow. Angelica taught Kurt to make snow angels; she was appalled that he'd never made one before. Gemma challenged them all to a snowperson making contest, which she, of course, won. Blaine started a snowball war complete with teams and snow fortresses.

They stayed outside until the sky began to darken. Kurt's lips were chapped and his hair was more tangled than a birds nest when they went to supper, but he couldn't have cared less. He didn't even clean up, but instead went to straight to the meal with the other three. Unbeknownst to Kurt, Lord Ander had left early that morning on a short trip to a neighboring fief, which meant that it was only Kurt, Blaine, Angelica, and Lady Gemma and appearances couldn't mean less.

Tiredness was catching up with Kurt quickly. He was spared from having to talk much at supper due to Angelica's almost never-ending commentary on which snow made for the best snowballs, sledding, and snow people.

They decided to dissipate when Angelica almost fell asleep in her food – Kurt _had_ been wondering why she was so quiet, but his lack of energy zapped his curiosity to find out.

Blaine's soft touch on Kurt's knee reminded him of what they'd agreed to earlier that day. Suddenly, Kurt wasn't feeling very tired.

"Mama," Blaine said, touching her shoulder as she moved to the door. "Can I…_we_ talk to you?" Kurt noticed that Blaine was beginning to look nervous.

Gemma immediately shifted from carefree to worried mother mode. "Of course, dear," she said soothingly, laying a hand over her son's. "Alone? Should we go somewhere more private?"

"Just the three of us." Kurt fought back a sickening bout of nerves in his stomach as Blaine's words made Gemma look curiously in his direction. "But perhaps we should go to a sitting room."

"Certainly." She turned to one of the doormen. "Would you just make sure Angelica gets to her room? I'll be there shortly." The man nodded and took the little girl's hand from her mother before guiding her down the hall. It was good that she had someone to look after her, because she swayed with tiredness as she walked away.

Gemma took Blaine's hand in hers – he returned her grip unashamedly – and touched Kurt's shoulder gently before walking down the hall at a quick clip. Once in a private sitting room, she gestured for Kurt and Blaine to sit on a couch and pulled up a chair for herself. "What did you want to talk about, Blaine?"

"Well…it's more like something I wanted to tell you." He glanced nervously at Kurt, who was getting more nauseous by the second.

Kurt really liked Lady Gemma…what if she hated him after this? What if she thought he'd somehow contaminated her son? What if she told her husband? What if she told _Dave_? But she said "anything" in a calm voice and smiled benignly, banishing some of Kurt's nerves, though Blaine was sill wringing his hands.

"I've been at court a while," Blaine started awkwardly. "I…I'm sure you noticed that I haven't…taken an interest in anyone." Kurt noted that he was now avoiding eye contact.

"You can't force those things," Gemma said with a strange smile that made Kurt wonder exactly how she'd ended up married to Ander. They didn't seem very much like one another, at least to Kurt's eyes.

"Right…well, that's true." Blaine rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. Kurt wanted to just shout it out, but this was Blaine's mother and it was only appropriate that he did the talking. The fact that Kurt didn't trust his mouth to open and let out only words weighed in minutely as well. "Love just happens…right? You can't control who you fall in love with."

"Blaine," she said calmly.

"Sometimes, you don't even see it coming. It just sneaks up on you…"

"Bl…"

"…and before you know it, it's too late. You can't stop anything even if you wanted to. But – but the thing is, you never _would_ want to, because you're in love. Even though that love might be scary or intense…even though it has potential to hurt, disappoint, disappear and reappear, and shout and sing, it's still love and _you're_ the one who has it."

"Blaine!" Gemma said loudly, now looking genuinely concerned at her son's frazzled demeanor. "No one here is disputing that. I understand and I agree."

Kurt was sure that if it dragged on much longer, he'd faint from sheer anticipation of the moment. The prince didn't realize that Blaine's words had worked him up to tears until he saw Blaine's own eyes brimming. He wanted to wipe them away, but he reached up to touch the wetness on his own cheeks instead. The worry was driving him mad, but at the same time, Kurt was desperate for someone to know. No one he could think of was a better immediate candidate than Gemma.

If Kurt feared that Blaine would continue to beat around the bush, he was sorely mistaken. The next moment, Blaine simply – and rather loudly – put everything out in the open. "Kurt and I are in love. I – I mean…really, truly in love." Blaine's amber eyes were wide with worry, but he pushed onward. "I _have_ taken an interest in someone at court, but no one you'd have thought. I…I love Kurt, Mama."

Kurt was struck dumb. He didn't even react when Blaine reached out and took his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine bow his head, unable to look at his mother any longer.

Many moments passed in silence, with neither boy able to summon the strength of will needed to look at the woman. Kurt was beginning to wonder if he'd be sitting there forever when he felt a soft hand settle gently over his and Blaine's interlocked ones.

Shocked, Kurt looked up in time to see Gemma use her free hand to gently tilt Blaine's chin up so she could kiss his cheek. Afterward, she kissed a dumbfounded Kurt in the same manner and pulled back with a smile. "How long?"

Blaine didn't look like he'd be speaking again for quite a while, so Kurt took the question for him. "A little more than a year," he said quietly.

"That's a long time to keep a big secret," she said gently, pressing the back of her cool fingers against Kurt's overheated cheek. The action reminded him sharply and suddenly of when his Aunt Vivienne had done the same thing to comfort him at his mother's deathbed.

Kurt leaned into her touch gladly. "I hated hiding something from you," he said, voice breaking with emotion. "Anything. You've been so perfect, ever since I got here."

"Nobody is perfect. I know that only too well." Her voice was still lowered to a soft and reassuring tone. Kurt could hardly believe that she hadn't gotten angry or yelled yet.

"Mama," Blaine whispered softly.

"Oh, my baby," she crooned gently. She reached up to wipe away the solitary tear that had begun to work its way down Blaine's cheek. "I love you – _both_ of you. You're my son, Blaine. Kurt, you might as well be. I'd love you both, no matter what. I thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth."

When she bit her lip, Kurt knew by the sinking of his heart that the bad news was yet to come. "At the same time, this is a dangerous secret that you carry."

"You're the first person we've told, Mama," Blaine said. "No one else knows."

"You're sure? Are you certain that nobody else knows?" Blaine's silence was answer enough. Gemma smiled sadly, and Kurt got the feeling that she knew something they didn't. "There are people who can't know, no matter what. People would use that information against you in a heartbeat, to _hurt_ you."

"Dave," Kurt whispered.

"Perhaps. King Paul's father illegalized sodomites." Hearing the word said aloud made Kurt flinch, even though he knew that's what he and Blaine were. "King Dave wouldn't hesitate to enforce the law," Gemma continued. "The last thing I want is either of you getting hurt." She must have noticed Blaine's heartbroken look, because she hurriedly continued: "That's hardly a condemnation. I would never condemn real love, whomever it may be felt for. I'm merely cautioning you both," she paused, "and making it known that…if you're ever in any situation that calls for my help, I'm here to give it." Without warning, she folded them both into a tight hug.

Kurt leaned into her curl-covered shoulder gratefully. "Thank you, Gemma," he told her, wrapping his free arm around her. "You really are as close to perfect as you can get. You'd get on well with Aunt Vivienne, I think. One day, you'll meet her."

"One day I must, then. I'd love that."

"Mama, I love you," Blaine whispered. "Can you…not tell father?" He looked at her uncertainly.

She immediately waved her hand in dismissal. "He doesn't need to know," she assured them. "Your secret is safe with me, I promise. I can be both your listening ear and secret safe box." She brushed a few of Blaine's curls away from his forehead. "Yes?"

Kurt beamed at Gemma as she reassured them one last time and left to ready Angelica for bed. "That could have gone so much worse," Blaine said in relief, flopping back on the couch.

"Mmm," Kurt murmured in agreement. He curled up his legs beneath him and rested his head in Blaine's lap. Immediately, Blaine started running his fingers through Kurt's hair. Relieved as Gemma's reaction made him, Kurt couldn't help but notice how she hadn't seemed surprised when Blaine told her. His thoughts drifted to what Angelica told him about Ander arguing over whether to send her to court when she was old enough.

In retrospect, Gemma's long silence seemed ominous. Could she have been registering the confirmation of what Ander had alerted her to? Kurt didn't doubt that her words were all sincere, but he knew that she, like them, had more than one factor to consider.

Kurt buried his face in Blaine's leg, disliking where his thoughts were taking him when he should have only felt relieved. "Kurt." Blaine's voice, hot, breathy, and directly in his ear, startled Kurt into opening his eyes. "Don't you think we should go celebrate this somehow?" When Blaine's hand dipped under the hem of his shirt and moved up the planes of his body, Kurt didn't have to wonder what kind of celebration Blaine had in mind. Slowly and mischievously, he turned to Blaine and smiled.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So. Much. Smut. Finally, right? :D Whew. I've read it over so many times looking for mistakes that I'm half-blind and don't even know if it's good anymore, so I'd love to hear what you all think, haaa ;)_

_I have to credit "I Think We Got Love" from _Zanna, Don't_! for part of Blaine's impassioned speech to his mother. Also, you should all go listen to that song - it's awesome! _

_As always, thanks for reading! _


	16. Chapter 16 :: The Winter Ball

_A/N: Oh wow, it's been too long since I updated this, yes? I guess that's what I get when I'm trying to evenly update four WIP's at once! Remember the good old days when I started this and only had to worry about two so updates were every few days? Ahh. Oh well, I'm almost done with one of them so hopefully that'll even things out again!_

_On another note, I AM SO EMBARRASSED. I was watching television the other day, and saw a commercial for something called the Bellator Fighting Championship...THE BELLATOR FIGHTING CHAMPIONSHIP. I almost spit out my drink right then and there; I was so flustered. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear! XD For all of you Mixed Martial Arts aficionados out there, I swear that I just named the captain Bellator because it's Latin for "warrior", not because he's inspired by an MMA fighting thing. I don't even like televised fighting! *blushes*_

_Anyways, back to the actual story! _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Late Winter; 630 A.D.; Westerville, Algania<em>

"Blaine," called Kurt in a sing-song voice as he dodged around his room like a hummingbird. "You should really pick out your outfit now instead of waiting. In all honesty, I should have picked mine out _ages_ ago, but I've been getting so distracted. You really know how to keep guests entertained." He smirked to himself as he took out half a dozen tunics of varying colors to survey.

Not hearing a response, Kurt poked his head out of the open door that connected his and Blaine's room. Blaine was buried head first into his pillow, not moving. "Blaine…" Kurt said hesitantly. Becoming increasingly alarmed, he strode to Blaine's side and pushed his lover onto his side.

Large amber eyes blinked up at him accusingly. "_What_?"

Kurt sighed in relief and let Blaine go. "You know, it wouldn't hurt you to reply instead of lying there like you'd just up and died."

"I don't feel like talking," Blaine said sourly, burying his face in the pillow again.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't nonplussed by Blaine's behavior. In spite of the fun they'd had together the last few months, he'd been expecting something of the sort on that particular day. "Fine then, I'll talk at you." He returned from his room with a single outfit. "I _think_ this is what I'm going to wear. Unfortunately, I haven't been at court in almost half a year, so I'm not quite sure what the fashions are doing. I'll have to improvise a bit. I have these white breeches here, tight fitting." He shot Blaine a smirk that the other boy didn't see. "I was thinking this silver tunic. Not many people can afford silver dye, so it will certainly stand out. Then of course, I'll wear Westerville crimson for the shirt. Blaine? What do you think?"

Blaine didn't reply but Kurt wasn't deterred. He flung open Blaine's closet and drawers and began to poke through them. "Now here's the tricky part. We obviously have to match a bit, so we don't clash when we stand together, but I don't want it to look as if we actually coordinated ourselves to look that way. Normally that wouldn't be a problem but this won't just be your family. For all I know, there might even be people from Lima here tonight, and goodness knows who Dave sent to spy." Blaine muttered unintelligibly in return. "I was thinking that you should wear crimson breeches. I assume you have a pair, but if not you can borrow mine. They might be a little long but I can fix the hem, just for tonight. Then you'll have to incorporate silver somewhere too – somewhere subtle. I was thinking that might be nice for your shirt cuffs."

Kurt stopped talking and beamed at Blaine expectantly. Blaine didn't turn until Kurt cleared his throat subtly. "What do you expect me to say?" Blaine asked heatedly. "Fine, wear the silver breeches, or the crimson tunic, or whatever the hell color went with whichever article of clothing. Wear whatever will make you the most handsome so I have to watch every woman drool over you the entire night and not be able to do anything about it. It will be great fun, I can already tell. As for what I'll wear, I'd be happiest _not_ going at all, but as it is, I'll go in a potato sack." With that, he heaved a great sigh and resumed his face-down position on the bed.

Kurt, having located the crimson breeches, set them gently on the back of a chair and walked up to Blaine slowly. He sat beside him quietly for several moments, trying to pick the best words to say. "Blaine…I thought we already talked about this. You've known that this day was inescapable since your father first spoke about it. I'll have to act like I'm exhibiting an interest in the female guests, but you know that none of them will mean anything to me. Why are you acting like this?"

"Perhaps I just don't _want_ you exhibiting any kind of interest, feigned or real, in anyone but me." Blaine had turned his head to speak better. "Maybe I just want you _all_ for myself."

Kurt scoffed. "Oh come on, now. That isn't fair. I don't act like this in defense of you."

"_Please_," Blaine spat, sitting up and narrowing his eyes. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know why you hate Captain Bellator?"

"I…I don't hate the captain," Kurt stuttered. "I just…don't like him very much, but that's beside the point."

"No, it isn't beside the point," Blaine said, refusing to let it go. "Why don't you like Fortis, Kurt? You didn't like him, right from the start. Why is that? Could it be that you were _jealous_? Could it have been because you'd deluded yourself into thinking that there was absolutely no one else but you in my life? Deluded enough to get jealous of someone who had never been more than a friend – a _brother_, even?"

Kurt set his lips in a straight line. He stood up and cleared his throat formally. "You're upset. I understand. But you don't need to get petty just because you're insecure," he snapped. Blaine's mood and accusations had worn off on his own temperament.

He took a step closer to Blaine and kissed him. It was forceful and assertive, and Blaine didn't return it. "I love you, you damn fool. I love _you_. We're going to go to your father's Winter Ball tonight. I'm going to flirt with the women like I'm expected too. You know how uncomfortable that makes me, but it's only to keep _us_ safe and out of trouble. You're going to go to make your parents happy, and a little fraternization wouldn't hurt your reputation, either." He released his grip on Blaine's chin, gathered up his own outfit, and turned away. "Oh, and you'll be wearing the crimson breeches and the silver on your cuffs. You're allowed to select the rest." He walked into his own room and shut the door loudly after himself.

Kurt took a shaky breath as he turned in to his room. He should have been more patient with Blaine, Kurt knew that. Initially, he'd been completely calm in spite of Blaine's mood. But the longer it carried on, the more fussy Blaine got, and the more personal jabs he took, Kurt grew increasingly impatient.

A knock at his door shook him to his senses. Angelica's emerald eyes beamed up at him brightly when he opened it. "Oh love," Kurt said resignedly. "Now isn't the best time. I don't feel very well…"

"Mother said that she really must insist," Angelica said. She grabbed Kurt's hand without an answer and began tugging him down the hall. "She has a surprise for you…well, _she_ doesn't, but we all do…sort of. It will make you feel better, I promise."

The halls were strewn with people, both servants and guests. International and national nobles had been arriving in a steady stream over the last few days. Kurt recognized Angelica's path; it was the one to get to the grand ballroom. Kurt didn't see how anything that could be in that room would comfort him at the moment, but her words had spiked his curiosity. He squeezed her hand lightly to reassure her that he believed her, which resulted in a hand-squeezing battle that lasted until they reached the room. Even before he entered, Kurt already felt much better.

"Surprise!" Angelica said, bursting away from Kurt as they entered the room. She bounded over to a tall man, who watched her with a bemused expression as she began hopping in excited circles around him.

"Finn!" Kurt exclaimed, an unexpected upwelling of emotion rising inside of him as he saw his step-brother. He moved toward the tall man to embrace him tightly. "Finn, what are you doing here? I – I can't believe it!" Up until now, Kurt didn't realize just how long it had been since he'd truly been home. Almost immediately after the war, he'd packed up again. He had missed Finn and Carole. He missed his father and aunt. He missed Mercedes…and Sam, though they hadn't separated on the best of terms. He even missed _David_.

"I'm here for the Ball," Finn said, confirming what Kurt had suspected. "King Dave returned from Lithuania a bit more than a month ago, though I don't know how the forces made it down in the dead of winter. But Queen Vivienne was the one who asked me to come on behalf of the Lima court. Can you believe that? She sent _me_."

"I told you before the wedding that she likes you!" Kurt said, pulling away from his brother. "How long are you staying?"

Finn's face took on an excited expression. "Not too long, I'm afraid." He lowered his voice. "Which reminds me – I have to speak with you in private later."

"If you change your mind, you may stay as long as you like, Finn," said Lady Gemma, approaching them. "Any family of Kurt's is as good as such to me."

"You're family?" Angelica asked, looking at Finn with a new expression. "You don't _look_ like family."

"Angelica," warned Gemma, something Kurt noticed that she was prone to doing frequently.

"We're as good as a family," Kurt answered, kneeling to the little girl's level. "His mother married my father, which makes us brothers."

"Brothers," Angelica repeated, craning up her neck to look at Finn. "You're so…tall."

The three adults chuckled. "Well, there will be a lot of tall people here tonight," Kurt told her.

"Father says I'm not allowed to _go_ to the Ball," Angelica said bitterly, her tone reminding Kurt starkly of Blaine's. "I have to say in my room with a nurse to watch me so I don't escape. That's what he said."

Kurt stole a look at Gemma, who was no longer smiling. "It's just as well," Kurt said quickly, attempting to get past the awkward subject. "It will be horribly boring. I'll tell you what, if you want to dress up, you and I can dress up later, and we'll have our own ball. But only if you let _me_ have the first dance."

Angelica tried to hide a smile as she pretended to act pensive. "Oh fine," she said airily. "You can have the first dance, if you insist."

The tension sufficiently broken up, Kurt and Finn chatted for a few more minutes with Gemma and Angelica before the two ladies went on their way. For the first time, Kurt got a chance to take a good look around the ballroom. He wasn't sure whether Ander or Gemma has supervised the decoration, but he had never imagined the room could look so magnificent.

"Lady Gemma is quite wonderful," Finn remarked as they explored the room. "I can see why you decided to stay here so long. Although, it was certainly strange how her demeanor changed when her daughter mentioned the Lord of Westerville."

"Strange it is," Kurt said dryly. "I don't want to snoop, but I honestly can't make heads or tails of their family situation. Lord Ander is…congenial enough in person, though I'm afraid he's a bit hung up on old-fashioned propriety." He didn't mention the man's manipulative or malicious streaks. "Gemma is a doll, as is Angelica. I don't think I would ever get tired of either of them."

"And Blaine?" Finn inquired. "I was expecting him to be with you when you came into the ballroom. Is he doing well?"

"Oh, you know," Kurt said bitterly. "He's fine, I suppose."

Finn quietly surveyed him. "You've had a row," he said finally.

Kurt blanched. "When did _you_ become so insightful, oh ignorant one?"

"It's what I wanted to tell you earlier," Finn said, suddenly looking excited. "I can read people now, and relationships. I have some exciting news."

"Do tell," Kurt said, knowing that the type of relationship Finn spoke of wasn't his and Blaine's true relationship.

"I proposed marriage to Quinn," Finn said quickly. "We never really had a chance to talk after you came back from Lithuania, but Quinn and I got to, um," he blushed, "know each other quite well while you were gone. I proposed last month."

"Finn," Kurt said excitedly. "That's wonderful!" In the back of his mind, he wondered about what had happened to Rachel, the maid that Finn had initially been enamored with, but he didn't want to say anything that would spoil his brother's good mood. "When's the wedding?"

"Late this autumn," Finn answered. "You'll be home by then, won't you? We wanted to make it late enough for you to be home, and Quinn likes fall colors."

"Of course I'll be home," Kurt said excitedly. "I can hardly wait! What does Carole think?"

"She's hysterical with happiness," Finn said with a laugh. "Her and Quinn disappear for hours at a time, talking about goodness knows what." He cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "There's one other thing I meant to fill you in on. Do you remember when you told me you were taking Brittany to our parent's wedding, and that immediately after you asked her, Dave asked Santana so he wouldn't appear bested by you?"

"You told me it was petty," Kurt recalled. "That was an accurate summation."

"Not long after news of Quinn and I got out, David announced that he, too, was engaged," Finn said. Kurt gaped at his brother. "I don't understand why he must insist on always bettering everyone."

"That's his way," Kurt said bitterly. "I'm afraid that I can't make excuses for his behavior." At the sight of Finn's downcast face, Kurt put a hand on his brother's back. "I don't suppose I have to ask who the…_lucky_ woman is."

"Santana," Finn confirmed. "There's one more thing…I'm afraid that he wasn't willing to negotiate the date of his own wedding ceremony to accommodate your…ah, sabbatical."

Kurt tried not to be bothered by the fact that his own cousin could care less whether he was present at his wedding. "When is it, then?"

Finn visibly hesitated. "Two weeks," he said finally. "That's why I cannot stay here, as much as I'd like to. King Dave agreed with Vivienne's suggestion to send me here in hopes that you would return with me to Lima."

"He _does_ want me there?"

"I don't know what he wants," Finn said pensively. "But…I don't really ever know what he wants. He's been different ever since he got back from the war – more unpredictable."

"I won't come," Kurt said simply. "I'm sorry, Finn. I'm not David's toy, to order around whenever he fancies it."

"I had a feeling that would be your answer," Finn replied with a rueful smile. "I don't think he means to force you. I think his aim is to gauge your willingness to bow to his will."

Kurt had enough on his mind without wondering what his increasingly crazy cousin was ruminating on. "Come on," Kurt said, leading Finn out of the ballroom. "I'll show you around Westerville until it's time to return and get ready for the Ball."

* * *

><p>Kurt hadn't intended to spend the entire day away from Blaine, but that was just how things worked out. When he returned to his room, Kurt found that it was actually a blessing that Finn had come to Westerville for the Ball. It had given him a chance to cool off, and when he knocked on the main door to Blaine's room just over an hour before the ball started, he was feeling considerably more level-headed. In addition, he felt the burning need to apologize. He'd pondered on their small fight while he had been out with Finn. Wouldn't <em>he<em> have been jealous if the situations were reversed? Yes, he certainly would have; Blaine had even been right about why he initially disliked Bellator, although now Kurt thought that he was keeping up the feeling on mere pride and principle.

No one answered the door, though he knocked once, twice, three times. There was no way Blaine could have known that it was him, so Kurt resolved that he must have gone out. "Excuse me," he said, spotting a servant who was rushing by with an armful of table linens. "Do you know where Blaine is? Er…_Sir_ Blaine?"

"He left sometime midmorning," said the man, dropping into a bow. "He hasn't been back since. I'm sorry, Your Highness. If I come across him, would you like me to inform him that you're seeking him out?"

"No," Kurt said hurriedly, thinking that was the kind of news that would have Blaine avoiding his room the rest of the day. "I'll just wait. Thank you."

The servant bowed again before continuing on his way. Resolving to not move until Blaine returned, Kurt sat down against the space of wall that separated their rooms. Half an hour had passed, and Kurt was growing increasingly worried that he wouldn't be ready in time for the Ball, when Blaine rounded the corner. He stopped briefly in shock, and then continued toward Kurt at a slower pace.

"Er…hello," he said awkwardly.

Kurt had stood up when he saw Blaine, and now rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes involuntarily traveled to the floor. "Hello," he replied. "Blaine, listen –"

"No, let me go first," Blaine said quickly. "I overreacted earlier. I shouldn't have been upset with _you_; I know that none of this was your idea. I just didn't like the thought that other people would get to show you such affection to zero consequences…when I can never do that. The idea that the only person who knows how much I care about you is my _mother_, when all I want to do is shout it from a rooftop and scream it in everyone's face…"

"I should have just understood what you were talking about," Kurt said, reaching up and grabbing Blaine's hands in his own. "I _do_ understand, really. You were right about the captain, of course, and I get why you were jealous." He finished with a smirk.

Blaine rolled his eyes and pulled Kurt a little closer. "Oh yes, of course. It's because I just _love_ you, and you know it."

"I know it," Kurt repeated. He'd completely forgotten they were in the hallway, and was leaning in to kiss Blaine when the sound of running feet pounded through the hall. Shock shooting through his veins, Kurt pulled away quickly.

He didn't have time to drop his hands before Blaine's younger sister ran up to them. "Blaine there you are," she said. "I haven't seen you all day."

Blaine flushed. "I went on a walk…"

"It doesn't matter," Angelica said. "I was going back to my rooms because I've been _banished_ from the Ball and father told me to stop by yours and say that you should be ready in half an hour." She grinned at the sight of their joined hands, and Kurt hastily released Blaine. "Blaine, you like holding hands with Kurt, too? Aren't they soft?"

Blaine flushed even more. "I…uh, I wouldn't know," he said awkwardly.

"But you were just holding them…"

"Oh, yes! Just now, I was…yes, they're very soft. I just meant that overall, I…wouldn't know."

She shook her head at her older brother, but didn't say anything else before repeating her message one more time and skipping down the hall in the direction of her rooms.

"Perhaps we should go inside," Kurt said after a few moments of silence.

"That would be a good idea," Blaine said with a chuckle, opening his door, looking around to make sure no one else was in the hall, and then gesturing Kurt inside.

Once the door was safely shut, Kurt approached Blaine and traced his fingers along his cheek. He leaned in and kissed Blaine softly. He drew back reluctantly, but Kurt knew that they couldn't waste time when they were expected to be ready for the Ball soon.

"I'm going to get changed," Kurt said, opening their adjoining door. "So…are you wearing the crimson breeches?"

"I don't suppose I have much of a choice, do I?"

"Oh you have a choice," Kurt said, peering around the door frame to wink at Blaine. "But you should know that I find them _extremely_ attractive."

Blaine stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before grabbing the red pants. "Well, you don't have to beg," he said roughly, turning a shade of crimson that matched the pants themselves. Kurt chuckled to himself as he turned back into his room and proceeded to get ready.

* * *

><p>"That's…fascinating," Kurt said to the chatty Spanish noblewoman sitting next to him. She'd been talking about nothing in particular for the past half an hour while they ate dinner. Now she was describing, in detail, the method for delivering newborn foals, which really wasn't helping Kurt's appetite. Of course, she was sure to add, she had never actually birthed one herself, but her city was famous for their horses.<p>

Kurt wished that he had been seated closer to Blaine, but he was all the way across the room, at another table entirely. On the upside, he figured that Blaine couldn't be having nearly as bad of a time as he was, because he was sitting next to Finn. Whenever Kurt looked over, it seemed to him like the two were having the time of their lives.

"Oh, that's a shame," Kurt told the woman with fake sincerity when Lord Ander called an end to the meal and a reassembly in the ballroom in a quarter hour. "Your conversation is so…stimulating, my lady."

"Mmm, you flatter me," she purred, batting a hand at Kurt. "Perhaps you can save me a dance, young prince."

"Nothing could make me happier," Kurt told her before kissing her outstretched hand and moving away.

"Save me," he said once he reached Finn and Blaine. "Finn, can't you wear my clothes, take my skin, and pretend to be me?"

"Can you do that?" Finn asked, to bemused shakes of the head from Kurt and Blaine.

"Ah, but it's very painful," Blaine teased. "I wouldn't try it."

Finn looked slightly disappointed. "At least one part of the night is over," he said optimistically. "Don't you think you should be a little more…excited about this whole thing?" He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Now that the king and I are both getting married, people will be expecting it of you next. Don't you think you should try?"

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps," he said. "I don't want it pushed on me though. Why do you think they call it _falling_ in love?" He stole a covert glance at Blaine, who was smiling widely.

Finn looked as if he'd just had a revelation. "You're completely right," he said in wonder.

"I appreciate your concern though," Kurt said, nudging his brother lightly.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Kurt was still dancing circles with women he'd never met before. He hadn't thought there were that many guests at the castle, but the supply seemed never ending. To his surprise, he'd found some of them interesting, which made the whole thing bearable.<p>

After the thirty-seventh young noblewoman – Kurt had been counting – he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around expecting another dance partner but came face to face with Lord Ander himself, who Kurt hadn't spoken to all night.

"If I might take you away from this lovely lady for a few minutes," Lord Ander said with a charming bow to Kurt's French dance partner. He put a strong hand on Kurt's shoulder to guide him away, and didn't take it off until they'd reached a spot at the edge of the room where they could see the entire grand ballroom. "Might I ask your opinion of the décor?"

"Lovely," Kurt said formally. "Of course, I expected as much from a man of your cultural expertise."

Lord Ander looked satisfied with the answer. "I am pleased that you appreciate it."

"I should thank you for this Ball," Kurt said, inclining his head. "I've met many interesting people." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Ah!" The Lord of Westerville sounded hopeful. "Go on? The night will have been a complete success if you find a lovely flower to engage yourself with."

"Engage," Kurt repeated nervously. "The young women here tonight are all beautiful of course, and…uh…"

"Kurt, don't be shy," Lord Ander said with a humorless grin. "You needn't keep anything from me. I know them all. I _handpicked_ them for this occasion."

"How kind," Kurt squeaked. "I couldn't pick any one woman; I do believe it's too soon for that."

"Come now," Lord Ander cajoled. "There must be one who has caught your interest more than the others."

"Really," Kurt insisted, "everyone has been perfectly lovely."

"Kurt, stop dodging the question," Lord Ander teased, shaking a finger at the prince.

"I'm not dodging the question," he defended himself. "I honestly can't answer. I…I'm not sure…"

"You can't tell me that there isn't _one_ woman here who has sparked your attention?" Ander pressed, growing more agitated.

Kurt shook his head. "I didn't say that…"

"Ah, but you won't answer," Lord Ander said, "Which leads me to believe that you haven't found anyone to suit your fancy."

"That isn't true," Kurt lied. He felt frazzled and put on the spot, and it was beginning to show.

"Then don't hold back, Your Highness." In Lord Ander's tone, the title became an insult. "Just a name – or just point at one, if a name is too difficult for you."

"_No!_" The word came out of Kurt's mouth in a loud shout that made the previously buzzing room ring with silence. "No! I do not like your procession of women, and will not be threatened by you! You are _my_ subject, and you should remember it." Even the band had stopped playing as Kurt, pushed to his breaking point, yelled at the Lord of Westerville. "I will not cater to your taunts any longer."

As he turned, he thought he heard Lord Ander chuckle. He would have excused it as his imagination, if not for the words that followed: "Oh, but you already have."

Kurt gritted his teeth and didn't respond. "Kurt!" Blaine's voice called out from in the crowd, sinking the prince's heart. He should have stayed quiet. He should have let Kurt walk away. If Ander didn't know before, he certainly did now.

Feeling every eye upon him, Kurt slowed down to turn toward Blaine. Finn and Gemma had been dancing together, but now they were frozen with identical looks of concern on their faces. Though Finn didn't realize the severity of the situation as Gemma did, Kurt could tell that he knew something was wrong. Blaine had been making his way toward Kurt through the crowd, but stopped when he saw the prince's warning gaze. Kurt daren't shake his head, but the knight got the message. Without saying a word, Kurt walked away.

* * *

><p>As soon as Kurt got to his room, he broke down. He had held himself together all the way, but in seclusion, he couldn't do it any longer. Tears blurred his vision as he kicked off his boots, and he didn't even try to take off any other layers before curling up in a ball on his bed.<p>

He wasn't sure how much time passed until he heard a knock on his door. It roused him out of a shallow sleep, and he woke up teary and confused. "It's open," he said miserably, remembering that he hadn't locked it before collapsing.

He knew it was Blaine before the door even opened. Part of Kurt wanted to tell him to go away, but a stronger part wanted him there, even if they didn't say anything.

Blaine lowered himself down next to Kurt and reached out a gentle hand to brush a few tears off of his cheek. "What happened?" he asked after several moments of silence. "You were doing so well. What did my father say?"

"I don't know what it was exactly," Kurt said, sniffling pathetically. "A myriad of things, but…he kept asking if I had taken an interest in anyone at the Winter Ball. He wouldn't leave it alone."

Blaine made a soothing sound and ran a comforting hand up and down Kurt's arm. "It doesn't matter."

"It mattered to _him_," Kurt insisted. "It was like he was…like he was trying to prove a point." He moved forward into Blaine's arms. "He proved it. Blaine, he…he proved the point he wanted to make. If shouting at him wasn't enough, you…you…" He broke off tearfully and buried his face into Blaine's shoulder.

"Shh, Kurt," Blaine said. Kurt didn't notice any emotional distress in his tone, so he figured he must be hiding it for Kurt's benefit. "Everything will be alright. Just breathe."

Kurt tried to take a deep breath, but the second part of it was shuddery, and betrayed his level of nerves. "Just stay here with me," Kurt asked, balling his hands up in Blaine's shirtfront. "Please, don't go."

"I won't go," Blaine said, kissing the top of Kurt's head. "I'll be here. I'll always be here." His words, at least, provided Kurt with a measure of comfort. In the back of his mind, he recognized that he hadn't only been talking about that night. In spite of Blaine's answer, which spoke to forever, Kurt still dreaded what might come to light with the next morning.

* * *

><p><em>AN: There were two nods to Glee canon in this: 1) to drunk!Blaine, when Angelica talks about Finn and Kurt being brothers, and calls out Finn for his height :) and 2) when Blaine yells "Kurt!" at the Ball, it's supposed to be a bit like how it happened in Prom Queen!_

_Things didn't totally pan out like I'd anticipated in this chapter (I didn't know everything would be so dramarific!) but I'm rolling with the punches :D Drop a review if it suits your fancy!_

_Thanks for reading!_


	17. Chapter 17 :: Ambush

_A/N: I had a three hour train ride yesterday, so what better to do than write fanfic, right? :D So I used up part of that time by writing this. It's quite short - maybe the shortest PC chapter yet - but as it turns out, it's also really important. I hadn't anticipated for it to be as such; remember how last chapter I said it didn't turn out as I'd thought it would? Well this is like that, but tenfold :P Sometimes my mind just carries me places that turn out to be new story arcs - everything that happened in Westerville was like that, and I think this is the start of something as well._

_Enjoy, mes amis!_

* * *

><p><em>Late Winter, 630 A.D.; Westerville, Algania<em>

The next morning, Ander hadn't acted out of the ordinary. As usual, he remained distant and not a little condescending, and had simply smiled at Kurt as if he knew something the boy didn't before proceeding to begin sending his courtiers off. Kurt didn't have the strength of will to hole away during the leaving ceremony, so he stood there awkwardly, nodding at a few people and letting Ander do all the talking.

By the next week, everyone but Westerville's permanent residents had left. The citizens weren't thrilled about it – they had profited from the extra business – but Kurt was happy they were gone. However, what he wasn't happy about was much more worrying than any courtier's presence: not a day after the last guest left, Lord Ander disappeared. Neither Blaine nor Angelica knew where he had gone, and Gemma and Captain Bellator wouldn't elaborate beyond saying he was away on "business matters".

The Lady of Westerville spent the next few months on edge. To Kurt, she seemed constantly on her guard, and it wasn't difficult to surmise why. The prince figured that "business" wasn't something benign. But nothing ever came to Westerville, as if it was a bubble protected from all external consequences.

Kurt realized that he was hiding in Westerville – probably imposing his welcome and making what people had previously thought to be a diplomatic tour out to be what it truly was: nothing more than a vacation, albeit one that he needed in more ways than one. He could no longer bear the thought of returning to court – the court at Lima, where he was under the eye of the nation, not to mention subject to their critical tongues. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if he had his small breakdown in a Lima ballroom rather than at Westerville. As it was, he was sure that news of it had already reached his home. Finn would have never told, but the same couldn't be said of everyone.

* * *

><p><em>Early Autumn, 630 A.D.; Westerville, Algania<em>

The only thing Kurt could smell was nature. Wine grapes had a distinctive smell, one that he'd never experienced at home, though the definition of that word was beginning to become blurry now that he had been at Westerville more than a year. The hot sun pounded down on his pale skin so that he knew he would have to move to the shade soon, and the warmth of the ground rose up from beneath the blanket he was stretched out on. By his side, Blaine was a warm presence across the entire side of his body.

Kurt reached out his hand blindly until his fingers entwined with Blaine's. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. They were lying on a blanket in an aisle of ripening grapevines, savoring one of the last bits of summer heat. Feeling his face beginning to sunburn, Kurt turned toward Blaine and buried his face in the front of the other man's light shirt.

He breathed in a smell that was uniquely Blaine, though he couldn't put words to it other than that it was the best smell in the world. He tried to imagine Blaine growing up in Westerville, running through the fields of grapevines to hide while his mother tried to seek him, or eating ripe grapes with a toddling Angelica. Kurt's mind caught glimpses of what it might have been like – the normal childhood that he had never had – but they escaped just as quickly, to be replaced by more gruesome scenes. In their stead, he saw mental snapshots from inside Dave's war meeting room: glimpses of Blaine outfitted in battle armor, crossing swords with the best swordsmen in the realm on the practice fields, or unwelcome memories of him and Blaine returning from a day of battle scratched, bleeding, and limping. Happy childhood imaginings fled in the shadow of grim reality and the fact that they would soon have to face it once more.

"Tomorrow," Blaine whispered.

"Don't remind me," Kurt replied, his voice muffled.

Blaine chuckled. "Should I be flattered that you enjoy being at my home so much?" he asked gently, running his fingers through Kurt's hair. "It's past time for you to go home though, to your true home. I feel like I've been selfishly hogging you to myself ever since the Algo-Lithuanian War."

"Oh you have," Kurt said, smiling against Blaine's chest and tipping his head up so he could look at the other man. "I don't mind."

"I should hope not," Blaine said, leaning forward to kiss Kurt's forehead. "Mother will be sad to see you go, as will the little monster."

"She's coming to court in almost a year exactly," Kurt said, "and hopefully Gemma will come with her. I have so many things to show the both of them in Lima." He quieted for a few pensive moments. "Blaine…what will we do when we get back to the court?"

He could tell that Blaine immediately knew what he meant by the aversion of his eyes. "What can we do?" he asked. "Carry on. It won't be difficult. We know each other so much better than we did when we left a year ago," he grinned at Kurt mischievously, "in all ways. We both know that nothing can tear us apart. It will be easier than it would have been if we had never left."

"You're right," Kurt said, laying his head back down on Blaine's chest. There were definite downsides to returning to Lima, such as the fact that they wouldn't be able to act the same, but there were upsides as well. Though Dave had already been married to Santana for half a year, Finn would be getting married in a fortnight, something Kurt was eagerly awaiting.

* * *

><p>The next morning, he and Blaine left Westerville early. Gemma and Angelica, both tearful, saw them off with many hugs, kisses, and promises to see them no later than next year, while Captain Bellator clapped them each on the back heartily. The two men got on their way feeling slightly forlorn but also anticipatory. They wouldn't be making any long stops on the return trip, so they planned to camp for the night somewhere about three fourths of the way to Lima and take the last leg at a leisurely pace.<p>

Kurt had left his coronet in his saddlebag, unlike on the trip to Westerville. Without that spotlight pointing to Kurt, Blaine had felt safe enough to leave his armor off, though he kept his sword close during the day as they rode through shortcuts and dirt roads.

When they found a good place to settle for the night, they unpacked a large blanket to sleep on – it was still warm enough to sleep without a tent – and moved their saddlebags to their sides, so thieves wouldn't steal them off of the horses, which were tied up a few yards away. They spoke about this and that, watching the stars and drifting off to sleep slowly. Just as his eyes seemed to be closing for good, Kurt heard a twig snap.

His head spun around, and he saw both of the horses sleeping lightly. Unease blossoming in the pit of his stomach, Kurt poked Blaine in the side. "Blaine," he hissed. "Did you hear that?"

Blaine mumbled sleepily. "Hmm…what? What did I hear?"

"That noise," Kurt whispered, sitting up to look around better. "It was a twig snapping, I think."

Blaine blinked at him sleepily. "_Goodnight_, Kurt."

"But Blaine –"

"You do realize that we're on the edge of the _woods_, right?" Blaine asked. "It was probably an animal. Don't worry about it. Just go to sleep."

Still unsettled, Kurt lowered himself back down and tried to calm down enough to close his eyes. Blaine was asleep in less than a minute, breathing lightly. Reassured by his even breaths, Kurt closed his eyes and relaxed.

"Mmm, the brave knight should have listened to the little prince," a voice whispered, close enough for the breath to tickle Kurt's ear. His eyes flew open but before he could scream, a hand wrapped around his mouth and nose, cutting off his air supply.

He thrashed wildly, kicking Blaine several times in the process and sufficiently waking him up. "_Kurt_, just go…" His words faded out and he gaped like a fish upon seeing the scene. His amber eyes opened wide in alarm. Quicker than Kurt would have believed possible, he shot to the side; he'd left his sword next to the horses. The distance was too large for him to gap without being intercepted, in spite of his speed. A second bandit knocked him off of his feet with one punch of his meaty hand. The bandit, at least three times Blaine's size, forced him to his knees and captured his hands behind his back.

Kurt was still kicking and trying to scream, though his air supply was growing low. "He does put up a fight," said the bandit holding Kurt, his voice strained. He put a hand across Kurt's throat and squeezed, choking off Kurt's struggles. "That's better. For a moment, I was tempted to just kill you now and save the trouble." As soon as Kurt stopped struggling, the man holding him released his nose, allowing him to breathe.

"_Kurt_," Blaine cried out, his voice strangled and broken. "Let him go or I swear to God…I _will_ kill you."

"You sound awfully concerned," hissed the bandit that held Kurt.

Blaine's jaw clenched. "It's a knight's duty to protect his liege." Immediately after speaking, he paled. He'd spoken to excuse his protectiveness, but instead he'd given the bandit information that was infinitely more precious than the fact they might be sodomites.

The bandit chuckled, as if he could read Blaine's mind. "Do not worry, brave knight. I already know who you are. I should thank you for confirming it though." His companions chuckled, and Kurt realized for the first time that there must have been half a dozen of them. He nodded to one of his associates, who dug in Kurt's bag and drew out the coronet inside. "Prince Kurt and Sir Blaine. Yes, I've heard many things about you two. Almost inseparable, I hear. Well, we'll just see about that."

With a swift twist of his head, Kurt's mouth was momentarily freed. "Blaine, run to Lima and get –"

The bandit slapped his hand back onto Kurt's face, over both his nose and mouth once again. "Tsk, tsk, this is what happens when I do something nice, like letting you breathe. You'll learn not to abuse your privileges if you ever want any again."

Kurt couldn't help it when his eyes welled up and tears began to course over his cheeks. No matter what way you looked at it, his situation wasn't good. He tried to kick against his attacker's legs, but the hold he was in prevented much movement, and he was weak from lack of oxygen.

In the back of his mind, he could hear Blaine screaming his name over and over, every so often punctured by the occasional threat addressed to the bandits. Soon, all of Blaine's words blurred together in the back of Kurt's mind, twisting into a static pulsing feeling. He needed to breathe. He tried to reach up and claw at the man's hand, but his arms flopped uselessly. Kurt blinked heavily as his brain began to feel heavy, and his eyes started to multiply his vision. The last thing he saw was three copies of Blaine, screaming and struggling wildly to reach him.

Everything went black.

* * *

><p><span>Fun Fact:<span> Medieval bandits weren't exactly how we think of them today (for me that's like something out of a Clint Eastwood Spaghetti Western movie), but instead, groups of bandits were made up of social outcasts, self-professed or otherwise. They moved in small groups, like traveling villages, with families and everything. Most of them had some kind of disability - mental or physical - that set them apart from normal society, but they weren't lawless. The lawless medieval group were called outlaws, those wanted by the crown for crimes, which was why I was careful not to use that word. Villagers could help out bandits if they were kind enough, and could look past their strange exterior, but every villager had clearance to kill an outlaw on sight.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I always knew they would get attacked by bandits on the way back, and that Kurt would get roughed up a bit, but this whole kidnapping thing entered my head out of left-field, as I was actually typing it. Poor boys, everything is tearing them apart! Since everything in this story is Kurt's recollection, we'll be following him, though I wish I could show the reactions of Vivienne and Finn and everybody who hears about what's happening. _

_I noticed something as I was writing about Kurt knowing he was hiding out at Westerville, and how the town was a protective bubble in which no harm seemed to permanently come to him. My mind was actually thinking things up along the lines of Glee canon (obviously a very rough outline of it), and I didn't even realize it until yesterday (mind, how do you do this?). Kurt left to Westerville to escape Lima. He ended up well and truly falling in love, and met wonderful people. There is a part of him that missed everyone at Lima but another part that doesn't want to leave the safety Westerville provides. The only difference is that Blaine is following him back to Lima...hmm, no wait... :DDD The real difference is that, hopefully, no one gets stolen by bandits in season three ;)_

_Thanks for reading! :3_


	18. Chapter 18 :: The Raju

_Early Autumn, 630 A.D.; Location Unknown_

When Kurt woke up, his head was pounding almost unbearably. He groaned and tried to sit up, which was his first mistake. His brain seemed to do several flips inside of his head, and Kurt sank back with a piteous moan. The bedding he was on was soft, which Kurt's sore body was grateful for, and the sheets smelled vaguely of lavender, a smell that reminded him of his mother.

"Oh great, you aren't dead." Kurt's brow frinkled as a voice came from across the room. It sounded shaky and distorted. Kurt attributed what he'd thought was a sarcastic tone to those factors.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked weakly.

"Not _him_ again," said the voice. This time it was a bit clearer – definitely not Blaine's – and Kurt detected an accent that he had never heard before. "I've heard nothing but that name for the past two days. Blaine this, and Blaine that. 'Oh Blaine, I never meant to…Blaine, I'm so sorry…Blaine, I _love_ you'."

Kurt forced his eyes to open so he could see the outspoken second party in the room. His vision swam for several seconds, but when it settled he saw a teenage boy surveying him with a critical and suspicious glare. "Isn't Blaine a _boy's_ name?" the teen asked, his sapphire eyes narrowing even more.

Kurt clenched his jaw. If he could have moved his heavy limbs, he didn't think that he would have been able to resist flinging himself at the annoying child in a fit of insanity. "Yes," he said through gritted teeth.

Thin ebony eyebrows, the same color as the teen's choppy, chin length, pitch black hair rose high on his forehead. "People call _us_ weird," the teen said, leaning back and relaxing against the chair he sat in. "Maybe you _will_ fit in here."

"Where am I?" Kurt asked, his head giving a fierce throb as he spoke.

"Does everyone in that fancy court of yours have trysts with same-gendered partners? That's certainly different."

Kurt felt himself blush at the intrusive question. "H-how…why do you ask that?"

"You talk in your sleep," the boy said. He sounded comfortable enough with the subject, which Kurt thought was strange, since he looked no older than fourteen. "Anyways, we're the Raju. We…travel around."

Kurt had been extremely confused prior to those words; he didn't know where he was or why. But at that sentence, everything came rushing back. "Oh no…oh no, no, no." He clutched his pulsing forehead between his hands. "I need to leave this place. I need to find Blaine. Where is Blaine? What have you done with him?"

The boy frowned at him. "There was no Blaine…just you, unfortunately. What are you on about? Oh perfect, Sokko probably dropped you on your head by accident on your way here."

"I haven't been dropped on my head!" Kurt sat up quickly and swung his legs around the side of the cot. "I demand that you tell me where I am. Do you know who I am?"

"Of course," the boy said sourly. "That's why you're here. It was Suaite's idea. I didn't think it was a good idea but then again, no one listens to me."

"It's because you're just a damn child," Kurt said. He tried to stand up, but he swayed and almost fell. Only the boy's steadying hands kept him upright.

"You're not very old yourself," the boy pointed out.

"I'm twenty," Kurt said defensively, yanking himself away and stumbling around awkwardly until he found something on which to steady himself. "I look younger than I am."

"What a coincidence," said the boy with a mighty scowl. "So do I. I'll have you know that I'm almost eighteen."

Kurt scoffed. "Of course you are." He looked around frantically. They were in a simple tent that he would have called homey if he hadn't just been kidnapped by a gang of bandits. He let out a growl of frustration upon finding that his weak legs weren't likely to take him anywhere. Angrily, he turned back toward the boy, who was lounging casually in his chair. He was maddeningly at ease, tilting backward as a smirk twisted the delicate features of his face, which was an even paler shade than Kurt's.

"What are you smirking at?" Kurt snapped. "What's wrong with me? Why am I so…so _useless_?"

"We gave you something to calm you down and help you sleep," the boy said. "It weakens your muscles, and sometimes makes you dizzy when you wake up. It's the strongest stuff we have. Usually it knocks people right out, but unfortunately it didn't stop you from babbling on and on. Who is Blaine, anyways?"

"None of your business," Kurt said sharply. The boy held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Why are they putting a little boy here to watch over a prisoner anyways?" Kurt sneered. "Not old enough for a man's job, are you?"

The sapphire eyes narrowed accusatorily. "Not enough going on _down there_ for a man's job the last time I checked." Kurt merely stared, and the teen gave him a magnificent roll of the eyes. "I'm a _woman, _you idiot," she said. "No wonder you were stupid enough to get captured by Sokko and Suaite."

Kurt's anger faded. "You…you're a girl?"

"_Woman_," she corrected, pulling the loose fabric of her shirt against her chest tightly. To his surprise, Kurt saw evidence there to back up her claim. Blinking in surprise, he said back on the cot. "It's the hair," she continued, fingering the straight, choppy locks. "Or the pants, I suppose."

"I've known women who wear pants," Kurt said. She raised her slender eyebrows but didn't say anything. "Well, what's your name then? That is, unless you would rather that I called you girl-who-looks-like-a-boy?"

The taunt did its trick. The teen leapt to her feet in defiance. "Kova," she said. "Kova Vanki. My mother is the Raju's medicine woman. She took care of you." Kova narrowed her gaze, an action that was quickly becoming familiar. "I'd better tell her that you're awake. Do us both a favor and don't move."

As soon as Kova left, Kurt stumbled as quickly as he could to the back of the tent, but there was no flap. Legs failing, he practically crawled to peek out of the front flap only to see dozens of people milling around. There was no way he could make it away without being recaptured. He was well and truly trapped.

Trying to stay calm, Kurt rolled up in a tight ball on the cot. Not a moment later, Kova returned. "Listen, you," she said sharply. "My mother is coming, but I have to tell you something. Just…_don't_ stare, alright?"

"Stare at what?" Kova didn't have a chance to respond, because just then the answer entered the tent in a haze of perfume, clink of jewelry, and swishing of skirts. In spite of Kova's warning, Kurt couldn't help but stare. The medicine woman was a mane of frizzy black hair and countless draping scarves and layers, but that wasn't what was strange. Every inch of the bare skin he could see – face, neck, hands – was covered in gruesome burn scars.

Kurt gaped, but Kova's low growl and intimidating glare alerted him to his misstep. "Kova," the woman chided. Her voice was deep and rich, and it went a long way toward calming Kurt down. "Don't be like that. The poor dear has had a traumatic experience. He doesn't have proper control over his emotions yet, poor boy." She raised a scarred and distorted eyebrow and looked expectantly at her daughter. "Or don't you remember what it's like to be taken from your home?"

Kova's expression sobered. "I remember," she muttered.

The woman finally turned her gaze back to Kurt. "I'm Leigheas Vanki, the Raju healer. Most people here call me Alku, our homeland's term for mother, but you may call me whatever you wish." Without waiting for Kurt's answer, she guided him onto his back. Her touch was too gentle to be called force, but Kurt found himself obeying her every cue almost involuntarily. "How is your head?"

"Full of air," Kova muttered.

"It isn't!" Kurt protested.

"Ignore her," Alku Leigheas Vanki said, placing her fingers against Kurt's temples. "She enjoys speaking to an empty room."

"Unsteady," Kurt finally answered. The woman was nice enough, for a bandit – though her comment about being taken from home had sparked Kurt's curiosity. "I can't move very far without losing my balance. My legs have a bit of trouble holding my weight, too."

"Normal side effects," Alku said. She went to a nearby tray and poured Kurt something out of a large emerald bottle. "Drink this."

He took a sip and immediately began to feel clarity seep through his body and mind. "Why am I here?" he asked again, voice quiet.

Alku's lips pursed. "Hmm," she hummed. "I do not approve. We've been running low on money, and our chief, Sokko, has been looking for a solution. One of the…stranger men here, Suaite Kiusata, suggested a ransom. That would be you."

"Ransom," Kurt said with relief. That meant they wouldn't kill him. "You aren't allied with the native Lithuanians then?"

"Heavens, no," Alku said. "Barbarians, the lot of them."

Kurt thought that was rather rich coming from a bandit, but she was helping him so he didn't comment. "Where is Blaine?"

Kova rolled her eyes, but Alku bit her lip. "You have plenty of questions, I'm sure. You had better save them for when you see Sokko. He wants to speak with you tonight."

"Was he the one who took me?" Kurt asked, leaning forward. "What did you mean about Kova knowing what it was like to be taken from home? Where exactly are we? When will –?"

"Enough," Alku said, silencing Kurt immediately. "All in good time. Kova will look after you while you're here –"

"Alku!"

"She'll get you _anything_ you need," Alku continued. "For now, she'll show you around camp and introduce you to the Raju. We move often, but we set up identically, so you'll be able to memorize your way. Drink the rest of that, and I'll bring you a bit more tonight."

"S-sure," Kurt said weakly, hope dying in his chest like a weak ember engulfed by a tidal wave. Protesting was obviously futile. He was here until someone paid for him to leave. "Er…thank you, Mistress Vanki."

Her smile turned sympathetic. "It isn't so bad here," she said before leaving. "You'll have trust me on that." Kurt didn't even have the strength of will to nod at her as she left.

Kurt had sunk into a miserable silence after Alku left, completely forgetting that Kova was still present until she spoke. "She's wrong, you know."

He sighed heartily. All Kurt wanted was to be left alone so that he could contemplate his imprisonment in angst-ridden silence. The last thing he felt that he needed was the incessant presence of an obnoxious boy-woman. "Wrong about what?"

"She's wrong about it not being terrible here," Kova said quietly, her voice more vulnerable than Kurt had yet heard it. "I hate it. Except for…never mind. It doesn't matter."

If she has been intended to make Kurt even more emotional, she has succeeded. He felt his bottom lip begin to waver in a tell-tale way. If Blaine had been there, he would have immediately seen the signs, wrapped Kurt up in his arms, and held him tightly in a way that showed he would never let go. Blaine would have been able to help him.

Kova had done of that insight. She merely stared at him as if he had grown a second head until he finally broke down into fits of mighty sobs, upon which time her expression turned to one of horror. "Oh come on, don't do this," she said, slowly inching toward him. "I…I know how you feel, alright? I really do, I'm not just saying that. The feeling numbs after a while."

"What if I never go back?" Kurt asked between sobs. "What will happen to my father? I'll miss Finn's wedding. Blaine…Blaine will think that this entire thing is his fault. Oh, and Sam and I were fighting the last time I saw him. What if I die without telling him that I'm sorry?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Kova told him. "You aren't going to _die_, you daft headed boy. What use would you be then? Maybe…" She sighed impatiently and rolled her brilliant sapphire eyes. "Maybe while you're here we can be…I don't want to use the word _friends_."

Kurt could hardly believe what he was hearing. "You want to be my friend?"

"I said that I _don't_ want to say friends," Kova corrected. "But…I guess if there isn't a better word for it…" Kurt wasn't completely cheered, as his upset expression made quite clear. "Listen, would this Blaine person want you to sit there like a pathetic – and I mean _pathetic_ – lump, sobbing away every hour of the day? You're bound to be paid off soon, and you already know that not everyone here is out to take advantage of you." She narrowed her eyes critically. Kurt was beginning to wonder if that was actually a sign of affection. "I'm not, nor is my mother. Believe it or not, I probably hate you being here as much as you do."

"Fabulous," Kurt said sarcastically, trying to dab away his tears as even more fell.

"I don't mean that I hate _you_ being here." Kova shrugged. "I hate that it happened at all. I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

Kurt sniffed heroically as he surveyed her. "You're right about Blaine," he said finally. "He wouldn't want me to wallow. He's a knight, you know. He would probably fight his way out of this."

"A knight?" Kova asked. To Kurt's surprise, a smile had twisted its way onto her lips. "Or _your_ knight?"

Kurt wouldn't help but return her smile. "Both," he said, wiping away a few straggling tears. "You seem awfully nonchalant about that fact."

Kova shrugged. "I'm used to strange things. We have some people here like you. Well, a bit like you – they're two women, Ishtar and Tammuz Naisia. They were run out of their village when their secret was found out. The way they tell it, an angry mob as well as a yelling priest was party to the fiasco. They had it even worse than some of the others with things wrong inside of their heads. It's strange…there isn't anything wrong with them from what I can see. They're normal…at least, as normal as a Raju can be."

The news had made Kurt's jaw drop. There were people like him. They were women, but their situation was virtually the same. He made a mental note to find them and speak with them. But that was for another time. "You talk like everyone here has some sort of abnormality," Kurt said.

"They do."

"You don't."

Kova glowered. "That's different." She didn't elaborate, and Kurt didn't push her further. Everyone had things that they were uncomfortable talking about. "Come on. You should be fine with walking by now, and Alku wanted to me introduce you to a few of our people before you officially meet Sokko."

Kurt most certainly did not want to make acquaintances with these people. Alku had been fine, and even Kova didn't seem terrible, but from the way she talked about their camp, Kurt was sure that he didn't want to see any more of them. However, he wasn't in a position in which he could easily argue. Hesitantly, he followed her out of the tent.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Kurt had reluctantly seen the vast majority of people in the camp as well as learned where everything was. He wasn't sure why they were treating him in such a fashion. It was almost as if they wanted him to begin treating the godforsaken place as his home. Part of the definition of a home was a place where you felt safe. Kurt felt far from safe in the home of the Raju, the main cause being several particularly intimidating people.<p>

The worst of these was Suaite, the man who he had been told had the idea of taking a prisoner for ransom. Kurt had been shocked and appalled to find out that he was the same beefy man who had punched and restrained Blaine. That alone was enough to make Kurt want to lunge at him in attack, if not for the fact that he was the hugest man Kurt had ever seen, and he could probably halt his progress with a flick of his finger.

He also briefly met Ishtar and Tammuz, though he didn't speak of anything personal, since Kova was also there. She had been right about them being normal. They weren't strange in the least; Kurt wouldn't have known that they were lovers if Kova hadn't told him beforehand.

Before he would have liked it, Kova told him that it was almost dinner, and he had to speak with Sokko before they ate. He approached the largest tent with a sinking feeling in his gut. This was the man that had gone along with Suaite's plan of kidnap. What if he was similar to the big man? Was it even possible that anyone could be as horrible as that man? Kurt hoped not, but he didn't dare become too hopeful.

"Sokko, we're coming in," Kova announced informally as they came up to the flap of the tent. She held the tent open for Kurt, who entered first.

"Thank you, Kova. You may go."

Kurt spun to the girl in panic, begging her silently to stay with him. She looked at him strangely for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. She left the tent with that uncomprehending look still appraising Kurt, and he turned back to the chief with dread, only to feel like he'd been slapped in the face.

It was him. It was the man that had held Kurt on the day he'd been taken from Blaine. "You…" Kurt breathed.

Sokko chuckled deeply. "Indeed," he said simply. "Come forward. Sit." The man was sitting on a mat on the ground, bent over what looked like strange maps. Kurt approached and sat a good distance away from him. "Alku said you had questions. Ask them."

"Where's Blaine?" Kurt asked immediately. All he needed was for the man to say that he was alive and unharmed, and he would be satisfied.

Sokko smiled crookedly and turned his head away from Kurt. He began running his fingertips over the strange maps. "He is safe enough. Did you expect us to kill the only person who could bring the news of what had happened to you? We needed a messenger. We tied a note to him and left him tied to a tree." Kurt gasped in horror. "Do not fret, little prince. We moved him to a main road. I'm sure he was discovered and untied first thing the next morning."

"The next morning?" Kurt asked.

"That was two days ago," Sokko said, not pausing in his finger exploration of the maps.

"So," Kurt continued, "n-now what? Blaine has your message. How will I be returned home?"

"We get their money and you go free. It's as simple as that." Sokko kept his eyes affixed on a spot of the ground several feet in front of Kurt. "You're a prince so it should all go very quickly." Kurt was silent. "Don't worry. You'll be quite safe here."

"I'll be…safe?" Kurt asked, fury suddenly rising within him. "No, no I won't be safe. You stole me from my…from Blaine. You kidnapped me in the middle of the night. You hissed foul threats into my ear. You threatened to _kill_ me. You cut off my oxygen until I passed out for _two days_. Your resident madman, Suaite, _beat_ Blaine. What part of this indicates that I will be safe here?"

Sokko's expression had gone from amused to serious when Kurt mentioned Suaite, though he still didn't look him in the eye. "Suaite was punished for that," he said levelly, "as will anyone be who causes you lasting harm. As for the threats and cutting off your air, I am sorry. They were necessary actions. Your knight now has a message from a violent group that has the heir to the throne hostage. It's much more threatening than a harmless and weaponless band of outcasts, don't you think?"

Kurt gaped at him. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he lashed out at the first thing he saw, which was the progress of Sokko's hands over the strange map. "What are you _doing_?" he snapped. "You look ridiculous." It mightn't have been the wisest idea to lash out at his kidnapper, but Kurt needed some outlet.

"Plotting a course of travel," Sokko answered mildly. "We're going south for the winter this year. Last year we stayed in Germanic territory and lost more people to the cold than we should have. I do believe the Grecian area should suffice." He paused in his hand wandering to finally turn his head. "As for the ridiculousness of it, I do wish there were another way."

Kurt tried not to let out a gasp, but he was unsuccessful. In his initial fright, or perhaps anger over seeing his kidnapper, he hadn't looked properly at the man. Though his skin was olive toned and his hair was a dark chestnut color, his eyes were so pale they were almost white. "You're…you're _blind_," Kurt said stupidly.

"Insightful," Sokko said dryly. "This map was made specifically for me by one of the people here in camp. In addition to the traditional flat lines, which I can't see, there are little raised landmarks around the entire thing. It's quite useful."

"Oh," Kurt said quietly. He suddenly felt bad for yelling and insulting a blind man, which was silly because Sokko had proved that he was far from handicapped. "Is that why…I mean…"

"Why I'm here," Sokko said. "Yes, it is. Both of my parents died when I was very young, and no one wanted to take in a blind street urchin. I found the Raju. They took me without question."

"Oh," Kurt said again, not able to think up anything more intelligent.

Sokko visibly hesitated. "Prince Hummel," he said, shocking Kurt immensely. Even people in his own court didn't use his last name, preferring to call him Prince Kurt, which was considerably less formal. "I hope you understand. I do what I do because I need to protect these people. This has been my entire life, and I cannot see it die. We are all each other have, because no one else can see past our irregularities. Surely you must understand?"

"I do," Kurt said quietly.

"Good," Sokko said, getting to his feet. Kurt's gut instinct was to spring forward to assist the blind man, but he found that he needed no help. "You haven't eaten for two days. I'm sure you're hungry."

"Y-yes," Kurt said, getting to his own feet. He hadn't even realized how hungry he was until the chief had mentioned food, but he was famished. He followed the man to a large fire that had been constructed, from which the smell of cooking meat emanated.

He sat on a small stool and pulled his knees up to his chest. Thoughts turning to Blaine, Kurt closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on his knees. What was the other man doing? If it had been two days, he didn't doubt that he had already brought the news to Lima. Kurt was willing to bet that the bandits had made fast tracks away from the capital so they wouldn't be found. It was possible that they weren't even in Algania anymore. Was Blaine lying awake somewhere, wishing nothing more than that they were together again?

"Er…Your Highness," Kova said, nudging him out of his train of thought. She held out a full wooden plate to him. "Next time you're getting your own, but Alku said I should take pity on you this once. It wasn't difficult. You _do_ look pretty pitiful."

"Thank you," Kurt said solemnly, taking the plate from her. "You don't have to call me that. Just Kurt is fine."

Delicately, Kova nodded and sat down next to him. Around them, others began to sit in a large community circle. A few people away, Sokko and Alku sat chatting animatedly. Ishtar and Tammuz were nearby, holding hands as they ate. Even Suaite was seated with the rest, viciously attacking his food and stuffing it down his throat.

Kurt's sorry mood didn't counter his hunger. It surely wasn't anything like he'd been eating at Westerville. The meat was gamey – Kurt was almost positive that they'd caught some tiny woodland creatures to make dinner – and the bread was stale, but Kurt was hungry enough to eat both. In spite of his circumstance, he had one thread of hope to cling to. Blaine was most likely at Lima. Even now, he was sure that Aunt Vivienne and Dave were getting together funds and sending out a middle man to negotiate his release.

* * *

><p><span>Fun Fact<span>: Lots of new names in this chapter, and I'm sorry in advance to anyone who speaks Irish of Finnish. I took simple descriptive words from those two languages and bastardized them to make these new names, and I thought I might as well give their meanings.

Kova Vanki = harsh (Finnish) + prisoner (Finnish)

Alku Leigheas Vanki = mother (Finnish) + medicine (Irish) + prisoner (Finnish)

Sokko Meirleach = blind (Finnish) + bandit (Irish)

Suaite Kiusata = disturbed (Irish) + molest, in the sense of being bothered (Finnish)

Naisia, Ishtar and Tammuz's last name, means women in Finnish - all creative names, I know ;)

Ishtar (pronounced Easter) and Tammuz took a bit more thought. Ishtar was a Babylonian goddess who loved Tammuz, a god of agriculture. Tammuz died, and Ishtar ventured to the Underworld to save him. She had to shed an offering of clothing at each gate of hell until she stood before the lord of the underworld unclothed and completely vulnerable. She appealed to the other gods and Tammuz, her love, was resurrected. Obviously, Tammuz is a male in the myth, but I thought it was a lovely story of breaking boundaries for love, and gender didn't totally matter.

* * *

><p><p>

_A/N: I was not planning on growing fond of these dang bandits :P Well, some of them at least. Kova is particularly fun to get in the mindframe of, even though I keep wanting to call her Kovu, like in The Lion King 2 ;)_

_Something had to tear our boys apart eventually (as Chris continually says, a real relationship always has problems) but I hope you enjoyed still! Thanks for reading!_


	19. Chapter 19 :: Escape

_Early Summer, 631 A.D.; the countryside on the outskirts of Edessa, Greece_

_ Soft blades of grass tickled Kurt's bare arms as he lay on the palace lawn outside of Lima's large hedge maze. There was no one around; it was absolutely deserted. The only other living being in sight was Blaine, who was a warm presence against him, his head perched on Kurt's thigh._

_ "Mmm, I miss you," Blaine mumbled lazily._

_ Kurt smiled languidly, the early afternoon sun making him lazy to the bone. "But you're right here with me," he said, nonetheless warmed by Blaine's sentiment. He propped himself up on one elbow and used his other hand to gently run his fingers through Blaine's curls._

_ "I know," Blaine said, turning to look at him. He didn't say anything else, but Kurt understood. It was silly to imagine that there was someone you could love so much that you wanted more of each other even when you were together, until you were actually in the situation. "Do you remember when we met?"_

_ "How could I forget?" Kurt said with a laugh. "I wanted to hate you for about five seconds…until you laughed. That was what won me over."_

_ "You insulted me immediately," Blaine said, poking at Kurt's leg. "Anyone with sense would have turned heel. "I'm glad that I didn't."_

_ "So am I," Kurt said quietly. It was horrible to think of how his life would have panned out without Blaine in it. He'd learned to accept who he was on an internal level, if not an external one, but would he even have accomplished that without Blaine? Or would he have been subject to a darker fate, a loveless marriage that gave him none of the joy that simply existing around Blaine did? "We're lucky."_

_ "Very," Blaine agreed. Suddenly, his brow drew together. "That legend about the fountain," he said slowly, "do you think…well, do you think that it's real?"_

_ "No," Kurt said too quickly. He'd thought about Fons Fortunae often since he'd met Blaine, including the possibility of it not being as fictitious as one would have him think._

_ "I took out a coin," Blaine said, wringing his hands together. "Do you remember? It was before I knew the myth. If I had, I never would have done it. You said later that it was bad luck to take a coin from the fountain…that whoever did it would be subject to Fortune's disfavor." He hesitated. "You don't think that what's happened to us…so many things have gone wrong, Kurt. It's like the universe doesn't want us to be together."_

_ "The universe _doesn't_ want us to be together," Kurt said. "According to the universe, we're abnormalities. We put in a coin before we went to the war too, with a wish to keep each other safe. Perhaps they counteract each other…_if_ such things are true."_

_ "That's just one wish," Blaine said argumentatively, "and it's probably expired. Disfavor lasts forever when you've offended someone immortal, just look at Heracles and Hera."_

_ Tired of Blaine's superstitious talk, Kurt leaned forward and sealed his lips with a kiss. "You talk too much," he murmured. "Not that I don't enjoy the sound of your voice, because I inarguably do. But it would be better served in another capacity."_

_ "Oh?" Blaine asked, grinning mischievously as he sat up. "What's that?"_

_ "Be creative," Kurt replied with a matching grin. His hands wound their way into the front of Blaine's shirt, which was free of him the next moment, quickly followed by Kurt's. Smiling at the twinkle in Blaine's eye, Kurt slowly and purposefully ran his right index finger across the planes of Blaine's shoulders and chest, tracing the raised scars that covered parts of his torso._

_ "Don't," Blaine said self-consciously, grabbing Kurt's hand and crossing his arms to partially obscure his marred skin._

_ Kurt gently extracted his hand from Blaine's. "You got this one in the practice yard dueling with Arthur, before he got his injury," Kurt said, placing his lips lightly against a relatively short scar stretching over Blaine's left collarbone and softly kissing the length of skin. "I remember it well. You got awfully cocky in that practice yard, thinking that there was no way Arthur could ever land a blow against _you_. The look of surprise on your face was priceless, almost worth you getting blood on my favorite tunic when you stumbled over to me in shock afterward."_

_ "Kurt, what are you –"_

_ "Ah, this one here," Kurt said, tapping a long scar stretching from under his armpit to the middle of his back. "This one scared me. We were on the way to Lithuania. He got under your armor when you got distracted trying to assist Puck when six men attacked him at once. I was so frightened…there was so much blood. I thought you'd died."_

_ "But I didn't," Blaine said, tracing the plane of Kurt's jaw with a calloused hand. His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You shot him down in the next moment. You saved me."_

_ "I'd do it again," Kurt said, "a million times over." Their lips met in a swirl of mixed up memories and aching longing for the other. He felt Blaine's hands rake roughly up his sides as he flipped him around onto his back and began leaving a heated trail of kisses down his neck and chest._

_ Their lips met again, and their bodies pressed together hotly. Blaine's hands ran up Kurt's shoulders and into his hair, tugging lightly and pulling back so that he'd have greater purchase on his mouth. "You said you wouldn't leave me," Kurt said with a gasp. Blaine's lips left Kurt's skin, and his arms wound around Kurt tightly, holding their bodies together as if it were the only thing keeping them going. "You said you wouldn't go. You promised."_

_ "I promised," Blaine repeated. "I'll never leave you Kurt, never. I'll keep looking for you…forever, if I have to." _

_ Kurt's hold on Blaine tightened, drawing their bodies closer. A poke in his side ruined the mood. "Ow, Blaine!"_

"Kurt! Kuuuuuuurt!"

_ Kurt's eyes grew heavy, and the lawn began to grow blurry. Blaine's arms began to loosen around him, and Kurt was no longer sure whether he was being held, or if the feeling was merely a phantom memory. "I won't go," Blaine said. "I'll be here. "I'll always be here, Kurt…Kurt…"_

"Kurt! Kurt!" Blaine's voice faded into one that had grown all too familiar of late. Kurt felt another poke in his side, and this time he batted it away before scrambling into a sitting position and rubbing his eyes.

The dream had felt so real. He could have sworn that it had actually been happening. But it hadn't. He was still with the Raju, as he had been for nine months. He hadn't held Blaine in his arms for almost a year. "That isn't very nice," Kurt told Kova, who had a dark eyebrow raised almost high enough to blend in with her hairline.

"You were dreaming about Blaine again, weren't you?" she asked.

"Yes," Kurt said, lying back down and burying his face into a pillow. "How did you know?"

"You were making some interesting noises," she said with a smirk. Kurt colored to the roots of his hair. "I hated to wake you, but it was becoming quite distracting. I also might have been afraid that someone else would hear you and think those interesting things were actually happening in here_._"

"You're just the silent lover?" Kurt asked with an angelic smile, wrapping his arms around his pillow. "I think they'd know better."

Kova grumbled and shoved him in the ribs, making Kurt gasp and hold his side. He nudged her back and a stifled, good-natured scuffle ensued. It ended with both of them laughing. In Kurt's case, that only served to remind him of his dream. His laughter quickly faded and he laid back down, this time holding the pillow to his stomach, which had suddenly begun to ache.

Kova looked at him sympathetically. Silently, she took his hand and threaded their fingers together. Usually, Kurt found it humorous when she did such a thing. It was painfully obvious that she found the gesture uncomfortable, and did it for no other reason than that it made him feel better. This time however, it wasn't accomplishing its intention.

"Why haven't they come yet?" Kurt whispered. "Why haven't we heard _anything_?"

"Sokko said that it sometimes takes a long time for messages to travel and negotiations to be carried out," Kova said. "It could take a few months."

"He said that when I first got here." Kurt had taken to saying things like that: first got here. He found that it made it sound less like he was a prisoner and more like a guest, which he was certainly trying to be made to feel like. But he was far from a guest. About a week after he'd been taken, Kurt had tried to escape. The situation ended with Suaite slamming his face into the ground and grinding it into the dirt before Sokko came out of his tent and flung the crazy man off of him. Suaite hadn't been allowed near Kurt alone after that, but Kurt hadn't tried to escape again either. "That was nine months ago, Kova."

Kova gnawed on her bottom lip. "The Raju have a way of sucking people in for good."

That didn't bolster Kurt's spirits. Only a month ago, Kova had finally told him how she and her mother had wound up with the Raju. Kova's father had been an incessant gambler, and he had accumulated too much debt to pay off. The town they had lived in in the far north hadn't had traditional societal rules. Wife and children were wholly the property of the husband, so Kova's father sold her and Alku to a human trafficker to pay his debts. They had only been with the traders a week when a passing band of bandits lit fire to the slave camp.

In a fit of bohemian passion it had seemed like a good way to set the poor people free, but Alku hadn't been so lucky. After the Raju had found out the consequences of their actions, they had offered her and Kova places in their wandering group. Alku had accepted, telling Kova that with her new skin, there was no way they would be accepted back into the fold of normalcy. That had been eight years ago, and Kova still resented the people that had marred her mother and ruined her chances at a normal life. Kurt didn't want to end up like Kova.

He turned wide eyes on her. "Maybe you can do something…"

"Don't ask that of me," she said, rolling onto her other side and facing away from him. "Don't ask that of me, Kurt, because you know I'd like to. I…I just can't."

He sighed shortly and sat up in their tent. He did know that she couldn't but Kurt was still upset. Kova _knew_ what it was like, he knew that she did. Yet she still sat there and watched him writhe in the clutches of captivity without doing anything. Kurt knew that he was trying to find someone to blame, but he couldn't care less. "They aren't coming for me," he said quietly. Kova didn't respond. "I'm going to be stuck in this godforsaken hellhole forever. Blaine was right; it was because of the coin." He tightened his hand into a fist and dug his fingernails into his palm to keep himself from tearing up. In the end, the pain did that for him anyway.

"At least you have me," she said in a monotone.

"Oh that's exactly what I want," Kurt snapped, "to be stuck sharing a tent with a moody girl for the rest of my life while she hawks over me, making sure I don't escape in the middle of the night."

Kova rolled her eyes dramatically. Kurt was actually rather glad that he was sharing a tent with Kova; he'd grown rather accustomed to not sleeping alone. Anywhere else, people would have been afraid for the young girl's virtue. Here, in the throes of a land of misfits, Kurt had never felt compelled to lie about his preferences. No one ever had any doubts about Kova's safety when they were alone.

"Don't feel obliged say anything," Kurt said, though if he had been in her position, he wasn't sure what he would have said either. "I'm going to Tammuz and Ishtar. Perhaps _they_ can be sympathetic."

"You're begging for pity," Kova drawled as he got up to leave. "It isn't becoming. You're an adult, and it's more than a bit pathetic."

Kurt stomped across the camp to Ishtar and Tammuz's tent. It was still relatively early in the morning, but Ishtar was outside of their tent starting a fire. "Stop, stop! Grab that bucket of water – just there, yes. Bring it to me," she requested in her strongly accented voice, smiling widely at Kurt when he turned – albeit grumbling – and hauled a large bucket of water to the woman. "Look at that, my darling prince, lifting a bucket. Come, mon petit papillon…" She lapsed into baby sounds and tried to pinch his cheek as he handed off the bucket but he dodged her grabby hands.

Kurt didn't understand her habit of talking to him like that – or the nicknames, for that matter – but he supposed that was just the way Ishtar was. "Kova's being grumpy and I have to stay here forever," Kurt complained, sitting down beside the woman and sinking his head into his hands.

"Mon Dieu, are you sure that it is she who is the grumpy one?"

"Of course I'm sure," he shot back. "Even if I was…don't I have a right to be?"

"Oui, papillon," she acquiesced, brushing a platinum strand of hair behind her ear. "At least you are working to keep yourself busy, no? You see, you have calluses on your hands now. They were softer than a newborn's latter half when you came here. Oh, I remember the fuss you put up when it was your turn to dig the latrine trenches." Ishtar giggled.

"Most places don't make their prisoners work," Kurt bemoaned. "They just give them their daily ration of stale bread and moldy cheese and leave them alone to contemplate death by self-asphyxiation."

"Oi, what is wrong with you today?" Ishtar asked, putting her hands on either side of Kurt's face. "Usually your pessimism only flies at half-mast, but today you're full steam ahead, no?"

"I had a dream," Kurt said. He leaned his head on Ishtar's shoulder. "About Blaine…again."

"Ah, votre chevalier," Ishtar said, poking at the beginning fire. "Oui, you miss him."

"Imagine if you and Tammuz lived together in a castle for a year, during the blossoming beginning of your relationship," Kurt explained. "Then imagine if you were taken away from her in the night."

"You _need_ him," Ishtar corrected herself. "Believe me, papillon, _I_ know."

"I know _you_ know," Kurt said. "Stupid Sokko doesn't know."

"He does what he think is best."

"Now he'll never get his money and I'll never see Blaine again."

Ishtar smiled, though Kurt couldn't see why she would. "How many times have you said that before?" she asked.

Kurt blushed; she knew him better than he thought. Over the overwhelming amount of time he had been imprisoned at the Raju camp, he had found that being with Ishtar and Tammuz helped his mood. One day, he had wound up spilling his entire story to them. To their credit, they had listened raptly, giving little squeals of excitement when he recounted seeing Blaine in the crowd that had survived the Vilnius siege, and fanning their faces when he described their first night together.

"Maybe once or twice," he conceded, thinking of all the times he had been separated from Blaine.

"You are a pessimist by nature," she said. "So young, so cynical – it is a shame." Ishtar's head turned as she heard the tent behind her open. Tammuz, her head a mass of wild strawberry blonde bedhead curls, stumbled out and squeezed herself onto the seat in between Kurt and Ishtar. "You slept in." The corner of Ishtar's mouth curled upward in a smile.

"No one else is awake yet," Tammuz mumbled, gesturing to the near-empty camp. She returned Ishtar's smile and bent down to kiss her softly. "Besides, I was exhausted."

"Don't mind me," Kurt spoke up, prodding Tammuz's side. "I'm just here, listening to everything you say and being thankful I sleep on the other side of camp."

"Mon amour, he's having one of his days," Ishtar told Tammuz, standing to hang the bucket of water to boil above the growing flame.

"Dream?" Tammuz asked, propping her chin on her hand and staring at Kurt, her green eyes still squinty from sleep.

"Yes."

"Explain," she prompted. "Dreams can mean many things. Alku will tell you the same thing. You know, she has a potion that will make you dream of the future."

"That sounds plausible," Kurt said sarcastically. "Venturing back to relative reality, we were at Lima, in the garden. No one else was there."

"Wishful thinking," Ishtar said. "How many times have I wished Tammuz and I could lie together in a beautiful place without people there to tell us we'll burn for it?"

"He said he missed me," Kurt continued, "and then we started talking about our past."

"Dwelling on the past?" Tammuz suggested. "Did he want to move past that subject?"

"No," Kurt said contemplatively. "It was mutual reminiscence. It's all sort of fading now," he added, thinking about what Blaine said about the fountain and deciding he wouldn't mention that part to Ishtar and Tammuz. "Then some…other stuff happened, and then something about his scars…he said he wouldn't go, that he'd always be there." Kurt sighed. "He said the same thing the night of the Winter Ball. Just look how that turned out."

"Other stuff?" Tammuz asked with a knowing smile.

Ishtar elbowed her lover lightly and gave her a disapproving tsk. "Scars…injuries you cannot heal. Perhaps it means –"

A loud shout followed by the sound of pounding feet cut off what Ishtar had been about to say. A camp sentry – Kurt couldn't remember his name for the life of him – ran up to them, the first people he saw, and started talking hurriedly. In his alarm, Kurt only understood something about a marching army. He could have sworn that he heard the name of his home country, but before he could register it, Tammuz had swept him up and was ushering him quickly back to Alku's medicine tent.

"Wait, what's going on?" Kurt asked her, twisting slightly in her grasp. "He said…did he say something about Algania? That isn't…he wasn't talking about _our_ army, was he? They are coming for me!"

"They are not coming for you," Tammuz said as they passed the central well. "This is no rescue mission – it's one of destruction. Ah, would they continue if they knew you were here? What does this mean?"

Kurt was fairly sure that the woman was talking to herself, but her words were shocking. "They don't know I'm _here_?"

"I do not know what they don't know, Kurt," she said, not relinquishing her grip on his arm. "Sokko said that if any wandering army were to come upon us thinking we were vagabonds, you were to be protected." She stopped outside Alku's tent and called for Kova. As they waited for the younger woman, Tammuz looked up at Kurt seriously.

"Why don't I know what's happening?" Kurt asked fiercely, grabbing her hand in his. "Who is this army? Are they my people? Is that the Alganian army, Tammuz? Blaine is a knight, maybe he's with them! Tammuz…"

She looked away from him. "Sokko doesn't want you knowing too much of what is happening to your country while you are gone," she explained softly. "Information is powerful and you are cunning." Unexpectedly, she stretched onto her tiptoes and placed a friendly kiss on Kurt's mouth. Her hand rose to gently cup his cheek. She bit her lip, as if having a fierce internal debate. Her voice was lowered to a whisper the next time she spoke. "The Alganian army is a very different machine than that which you last knew. We've been getting news of their progress through east Europe for the past half year. Sokko thought they were approaching to arrange for your release on a closer scale, but we've had no word from them, no sign that they even received his offer of ransom. Sokko contemplated letting you go many times, only to be continually persuaded by Suaite that once free, you could lead the king to your captors and do harm to us…hence why he treats you as a guest here."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kurt asked her, matching her quiet tone.

"They come through the countryside carelessly," Tammuz said, "as no king of Algania has _ever_ done before. You have told me enough of your cousin for me to know that it's hardly unexpected though certainly regrettable. It has been this way almost since you were taken. I do not think that the excuse of a kidnapped secret lover would be a suitable one to omit your knight from the fight." Tammuz's eyes widened meaningfully.

"Y-you mean…Blaine," Kurt said, "he could be…"

"He could already be dead for all you know." Kurt spun toward Kova as she spoke. He hadn't even heard her exit the tent. "Thank you, Tammuz, that's enough from you." She glared at the older woman.

Tammuz pursed her lips, shot one last meaningful look at Kurt, and walked quickly back toward her tent. Kurt hadn't noticed it during Tammuz's explanation, but the entire camp was moving about frantically. "Get in," Kova said, pointing inside the tent. In spite of the steely exterior she attempted, Kurt heard the slight shaking of her voice. "I'm going to get my mother and ask her what to do with you. If you aren't there when I get back, I'll personally buy hunting hounds and set them on your trail." She left without another word and Kurt glared at her back as she retreated.

A few brief moments in the tent, and many whirlwind thoughts later, Kurt sprung to his feet. His mind was reeling faster than he could remember it doing ever before. With the dream memory of Blaine fresh in his mind, Kurt resolved to do what he hadn't attempted since his first failed try: to escape. The Alganian army was within sentry distance. They were _right there_ and Blaine might be with him. This could be his only chance.

He made it exactly five long steps, to the very outskirt of the camp, before he felt meaty hands latch onto his wrists. In a sick twist of déjà vu, he was once again thrust face first into the ground. This time, a heavy knee pressed into his back and lips tickled his ear. For all of the sounds of panic increasing in a fever all around him, no one seemed to notice his situation.

"Sokko is seeing to defenses," Suaite muttered in his ear, his acrid breath warming Kurt's skin. "Which means that he isn't here to defend you. If you ask me, no captive should live the way you have, with proper rations and free reign around the camp. Living with all of your secrets in the open, like you're _one_ of us."

Kurt's breath hitched as he felt the knee in his back shift. To his extreme horror, the knee slid slowly over the curve of his bottom and down his thighs until the beefy man's front was pressed into him. "You aren't the only one with secrets," he hissed in Kurt's ear.

His initial shock and repulsion wearing off to bequickly replaced by frantic terror, Kurt inhaled deeply to let out an ear-splitting scream, but a wad of fabric was shoved harshly between his teeth. A lump of horror rising in his chest, Kurt slowly realized that somehow, Suaite had planned this.

"You are going to get up with me," Suaite said calmly, "and we're going to walk someplace more private. Do you hear me? You aren't going to struggle. That will only make things worse for you in the end."

Kurt strained futilely and tried to scream through the gag, but it was inching down his throat. He should have done what Kova said. He should have just stayed in the tent. With a sick feeling of self-loathing, Kurt recognized how truly pathetic his days at the Raju camp had been. Hope had been a distant, unreachable thing, and he'd wasted almost a year of his life away from anyone who really cared about him. The moment he tried to flee, mostly out of cowardice, it was too late.

His limbs still flailing as much as they could in Suaite's strong grasp, Kurt was hauled to his feet. Through the flurry of noise, he heard one distinct cry, which was followed by a loud thump from much nearer. Kurt only registered what the thump was when the hands fell away from him. He spun around to see a stricken Kova holding a metal pot over her head and looking at Suaite like he was a disgusting dead thing. "Oh…I've always wanted to do that," she said.

Kurt's breath started to come in many quick gasps and only then did he realize that his cheeks were wet with tears and sticky with grains of dirt. He took a step away from both Kova and Suaite, like a frightened deer.

"Kova!" Sokko's commanding voice echoed through the din. "Grab him. Kova!"

She looked between Kurt, Sokko, and Suaite, eyes wide with panic. "Run," she said quietly. "Run!" The second order was stronger. She sprinted past Kurt, grabbing his hand and dragging him after her into the nearest copse of trees. Sokko's voice shouted orders for others to follow, but between the approaching army and him, Kurt had an idea of where the forces would go.

He and Kova ran for ten more minutes, over the hills of the Grecian countryside, before stopping. When Kurt turned to look at her, she too had tears in her eyes. "That was so…so," she choked on her words. "He tried to…he tried…"

"You look surprised," Kurt shot at her, pacing back and forth. He paced for a few more minutes, limbs shaking. He slowed, breathed deeply, and tried to banish the thought of what had almost happened from his mind. When he turned to look at Kova, her lip was wavering and she was glaring fiercely, as if mad with herself for showing weakness. "You actually did it…Kova."

"_What_?"

Kurt approached her and put his arms around her. She resisted at first, but finally settled into his grasp. "You hit Suaite over the head with a cooking pot," he mumbled, an absurd bubble of laughter rising up within him and then dying just as quickly. "And you helped me escape…Sokko told you not to but…you did."

"I had to," she muttered, voice muffled. "You're stupid and cynical, and annoying as all hell most of the time but…so am I, and I like you all the same. You have to leave."

"Come with me," Kurt said, pulling back and looking into her clear eyes. "Come with me Kova, back to Lima. You'll live just like one of the princesses, I swear. You said yourself that you hate it here but it doesn't always have to be like that."

She was shaking her head even before Kurt finished. "My mother," she said. "I can't leave her."

"Then go back and get her," Kurt proposed. "Meet me somewhere. We'll pick a place and a time and you can come for me there. We can all go back to Algania together."

Kova shook her head again. "This is our life," she said, withdrawing her hands from Kurt's. "Your life is at your fancy court, with your princesses and knight lovers." She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry for what I said," she whispered. "About Blaine being dead. You know that I say things sometimes…"

"I know."

"I'm sure that with a bond like yours, you'd know if anything happened to him," Kova said. "Does it feel like he's still alive?"

Kurt smiled. "Yes."

"Then he is," Kova promised. "Waiting for you, no doubt. Searching, as you would be for him if the situation was reversed." Unexpectedly, the loud noise of approaching men came from behind them, making both Kurt and Kova jump. "Go. Go!"

"I can't just leave you here, Kova, damn it."

"Yes, you can and you must," she said, spinning him around roughly and giving him a good shove. "Get out of here, Kurt. Go!"

As much as he wished Kova would have simply continued on with him, Kurt knew that he wouldn't stay for her, not when everything that he'd been away from for a year was so close. "I'll see you again someday," he promised her, looking back as he began to jog away. "I swear it, Kova, if I have to search to the ends of the Earth."

"That's beautiful and quite impossible," she said, familiar dry tone not quite overwhelming the twinkle of her eyes. "But I think I've used up all my extra stores of compassionate feelings for the next few years. Go back to your home, Kurt…find Blaine." She waved him off once more.

When Kurt turned away from her, he didn't look back again. He broke into a run, not knowing which way he was going or to whom he was nearing – only cognizant of getting farther away from the Raju camp – until his legs wouldn't carry him any farther. Kurt collapsed onto the ground not far from a small stream, shaking with tiredness and trauma. He inched into a tight copse of trees that would obscure him from the view of any passing people, and fell into a dreamless sleep almost immediately.

* * *

><p><span>Fun Fact:<span> I'm sure that almost everyone understood the reference to Heracles and Hera, but for those who don't: Heracles (or Herakles) is the Greek name for Hercules. Hera hated him even before he was born, because as Zeus's wife, she was jealous when Zeus had an affair with Alcmene and conceived Heracles. She does all sorts of things, like attacked him while he's in the womb, sending snakes to kill him as a baby, and eventually put a spell on him to make him insane and he wound up slaying his family. Not fun stuff, which is why Blaine was nervous about having made a goddess mad!


	20. Chapter 20 :: Reunion

_A/N: First of all, MERLIN'S BAGGIEST Y-FRONTS I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. All I can say is that you should all blame my university, which doesn't give me time to breathe. As such, I have to dedicate this chapter to aaalllll of you, because you're all so lovely and patient with me! :3_

_I've been looking for a way to fit Puck into the story more, so I finally figured out a way how this chapter, which I am SO excited about. Mark and Chord have such an adorable bromance in real life, I needed to make some form of that happen here :D_

_And in conclusion: someone put Prince Charming in The Klaine Team Glee Wikia? Next to all the other pwnsomely awesome Klaine stories and authors? I'M NOT WORTHY *le sob* WHO ARE YOU, PERSON? Come let me love you and we can fly from rainbow to cloud to rainbow on my unicorn and live happily ever after. *ahem* ...that's all :D_

_Enjoy! :3_

* * *

><p><em>Early Summer, 631 A.D.; around Pella, Greece<em>

Kurt woke up in the pitch black, and thankfully in the same place he'd fallen asleep. He sat up quickly, startled by his unfamiliar surroundings. With a heavy heart – he couldn't identify whether it was sinking or soaring – his memories all came flooding back to him. Something had happened at the Raju camp. He still wasn't sure what that something was, but in the confusion – and with Kova's help, he noted – he had escaped both Suaite and the grizzly fate that might have come with him, and the camp altogether.

Kurt tucked his knees to his chest, suddenly feeling extraordinarily alone. He had been lonely before, but never had Kurt been truly by himself, as he was now. All through his childhood he'd had Sam and Mercedes. Blaine and Sam had both been there for him in Lithuania. Blaine had been there in Westerville. Even at the Raju camp, Kova, Tammuz, and Ishtar had been with him, sympathizing. With unsettling clarity, Kurt realized that even though he had been raised to live among the wolves at court – even though he could fight or charm over the people around him – he had never been taught to _survive_.

Trying to quell his rising panic, Kurt scrambled to his feet. His best bet was trying to find the army. Tammuz had said that they were in the countryside, approaching the camp. He would have to double back to find them, but if he circled around first to put the army between him and the camp, he shouldn't be recaptured.

With nothing to carry but the clothes on his back, and certainly nothing to lose, Kurt started to walk. The sky was beginning to pinken in the east, and since he remember running after the setting sun the day before, Kurt tried to walk in what he guessed was a northeastern direction. When he thought he'd gone far enough, he would turn south.

As he walked and the sun rose ever higher in the sky, Kurt let his train of thought wander to pass the time. The enormity of the time he had been gone, indeed the enormity of just what had _happened_ to him kept reoccurring to him with increasing force. How had he not been found after all this time? Had Blaine even attempted to rescue him? Had the court at Lima actually never received the ransom offer? If not…where had it gone? They were all questions that Kurt couldn't answer, and yet they plagued his mind as he trundled along indelicately through the terrain.

Angelica would already be at court. She'd have come in the spring. Kurt wondered if Gemma had brought her, as she had wanted to. If she had, it was doubtless that she knew of his disappearance as well. Kurt wondered if Blaine had talked to his mother about it, as she remained the only one who truly knew how much Blaine would have been affected. Maybe if she had gone, Gemma had gotten to meet Daphne, as she'd expressed the desire to. Kurt wished that he could have been there for that.

Then there was Aunt Vivienne. She had approved his excursion because Blaine would be there to protect him. Kurt hoped she wasn't mad at him. He had, after all, taken indisputable advantage of her kindness. He was supposed to have extended the royal hand to the people, and instead he'd spent almost an entire year with his lover's family, lazing about at lakes and learning, essentially, about what it was to truly love another.

There were so many people he cared for in Lima, and so far he hadn't made any of them proud. His father was probably heartbroken; Kurt was his only biological child, after all. Finn would be married by now, and Kurt had been so excited to see his honorary brother's wedding. David would be married too, to Santana. Kurt had wondered about David often during his captivity. He didn't want to believe that his cousin would ignore his ransom, or use it as an excuse to invade innocents, but Kurt couldn't put the possibility out of his mind, especially now. David was unpredictable and volatile at his best.

Time seemed to pass quickly as he proceeded over hills and waterfalls. Before Kurt knew it, the sun was high overhead and he was making a path south. His stomach was beginning to growl and his throat was parched, but he had no food, nothing to sell for money or to hunt with, and he had not found a river whose water looked reliable. His only hope was finding the army before he was too weak to continue searching.

When the sun's angle to the west dipped past forty-five degrees, Kurt began to grow uneasy. He had only ran for a couple hours yesterday, and even walking and doubling around, he should have found them by now; he'd been trekking almost the entire day. Kurt began to expand his search area by walking in in narrow diagonal lines. As the horrible thought that he had overshot them came unbidden to Kurt's mind, he suddenly heard a noise that was distinctly human.

He paused in mid-step and watched as a sentry walked slowly through the wood. Taking care to not make a sound, Kurt moved behind a nearby tree. His heart soared when the sentry turned and Kurt saw the Lima coat of arms sprawled across his chest, though he supposed that he should have been slightly disconcerted that Lima's detecting forces had failed to detect someone so obliviously blundering through the terrain.

Content in his proximity to safety, Kurt settled back to watch the sentry. Not five minutes had passed before a second man joined the first and the first left the way he had come. Kurt must have caught him at the end of a shift. Far enough away to not be noticed, Kurt followed the sentry back to his origin.

When they reached the camp, Kurt almost cried with relief, as well as disbelief that he had actually made it. He was pondering how to reveal himself when he heard a familiar cry.

"I can't! I need to collect enough firewood to last the night, and I can't do two things at once. Get someone else to do it. I'm a stable boy, not a slave." Sam's blonde head came into view from behind a nearby tent, sending a pang of blessed familiarity straight through Kurt's heart. It took a moment for him to recognize that the man Sam was talking to was Noah Puckerman.

"I have to be the one to tell him that his every wish isn't our command?" Noah asked wryly. "I appreciate that, really. His note mentioned that his company was already on the return trip to Lima. By the time the message gets back to him…and it would only be saying no."

To Kurt's surprise, Sam began to chuckle and Noah joined in a moment later. Were they…_friends?_ "Either do it yourself, or don't mention it," Sam suggested, clapping Noah on the shoulder. "If he isn't here to hawk over you, Noah…"

"Ah, you know I will," Noah said, lowering his voice and sounding extremely unlike the Noah Kurt knew. Only their approaching proximity afforded Kurt the ability to hear his quiet words. "Things have been so different ever since…well. Ten years ago when I met him, I'd have laughed in the face of anyone who told me I'd one day be afraid of Da – King David."

Sam smiled without humor. "You aren't really so surprised it turned out this way, are you, Noah?"

Noah's smile faded. "No. No, I'm not." He sighed. "I'd better hurry up. Be back with the wood before sunset. Who knows what enemies lurk in these lands at night. Plenty no doubt, all things considered."

Sam nodded and Noah wandered away. Sam exited the edge of camp not ten yards from Kurt, who had been transfixed by the sudden sight of his old friend. His retreating form shocked Kurt into action. He crashed after Sam, no longer paying any attention to the sound he was making.

At the clamor, Sam spun around. Upon seeing Kurt, his face hardened. "What do you want?" he asked sharply.

Kurt's heart sunk farther than he would have thought possible. "W-what?"

"I don't carry valuables with me, and I travel with the army of Algania."

Sudden relief flooded him so quickly that Kurt almost thought he would pass out. Sam didn't recognize him. Looking down at himself, Kurt wasn't surprised. All of his valuable clothes had been taken and the Raju had stuck him in plain, colorless cloth. His skin was tinged dark with dirt from sleeping on the ground, and Kurt didn't doubt that his hair was full of all sorts of leaves and twigs. That was not to mention how much longer it had gotten in his absence. Hair that had previously been frequently trimmed so that it never went past his earlobe now hung scraggly and curly, brushing against his collarbone. Kurt doubted that even his father would recognize him now. If he hadn't been so weary and emotionally spent, Kurt might have laughed.

"Sam, it's…it's me," Kurt said hopelessly.

Sam's expression turned confused, and then defiant. "No…it can't be," he said slowly, taking a hesitant step closer. "K…Kurt?" All Kurt could do was nod. His throat had closed up and he could feel his eyes beginning to sting. "Kurt. Kurt!" Sam's voice broke over the last syllable. By the time he lurched toward Kurt and threw his arms around him, Kurt was sobbing.

He leaned his face onto Sam's shoulder as Sam held him tightly. His arms wound around Sam and Kurt practically collapsed into his arms as he sobbed out every bit of emotion that had been pent up inside of him over the past year. "Sam, I'm s-s-sorry. We fought and then I left without trying to fix it."

"What are you –? No, no, I was wrong. I shouldn't have pried into your business. I shouldn't have gotten mad."

"Oh, but you were right. What if I'd died? You never would have known that you were –"

"Shh, Kurt, you don't have to say anything," Sam said. He held him, if possible, even tighter. "I can't believe that you're…I mean, I wanted to believe that you were alive somewhere but everyone thought…i-it's been almost a year since Blaine came back. What happened? How are you here?"

"It's too long of a story," Kurt said. Sam didn't make a move to break their hug, nor was Kurt inclined to move away. "Why are _you_ here? The whole army? Sam…what's happening in Algania?"

When Sam pulled away to look at him, it was with a grim expression. "We have to get back to camp…_now_."

"I can't believe it." Kurt tried to bite back a sigh as Noah repeated himself for what had to have been the tenth time since he and Sam had walked into his tent. His few minutes with Sam and Noah had shown Kurt that he was going to have to be patient with people. He had known, of course, that he had been alive the past months, but for all anyone else knew, he could have been gone forever. They would have to grow reconciled with the fact that he had, essentially, come back from the dead.

What he did find slightly disconcerting was the fact that neither Noah nor Sam seemed inclined to stop staring at him, as if when they looked away he would vanish from the spot. "S-so, you're here alone," Kurt clarified, trying at the same time to learn the situation with his country and move the subject away from what he had just escaped from. "David is with another company? You're both here in Greece though? I don't understand…where's Blaine?"

Sam and Noah had been exchanging wryly bemused glances until Kurt's last question, upon which their smiles grew strained. "About Blaine," Noah started, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. "He's…ah…"

Kurt's heart sped up at the hesitation. "Sam?" he inquired sharply. "Where is Blaine?"

"He's on a type of…house arrest," Sam said carefully. "The king won't let him go out…anywhere."

Kurt gaped at the two other men. "W-what do you mean he won't let him go _out_? Why not?"

"Because all he wants to do is look for you, of course." Noah said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"He…he looked for me?" Kurt asked quietly. Suddenly, his legs felt weak and he had to quickly back up and sit down on the nearest seat. He lifted his hand quickly to swipe at the sudden tears that appeared on his cheeks.

"Kurt," Sam said at an equal volume. He approached him and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "We all looked for you. Do you really think that…that we wouldn't? We looked wherever we could. That was the king's reason for invading the east."

"Invading?" Kurt asked. So many things had happened while he was gone, perhaps because of him. "You've invaded? Here?"

"Not yet," Noah said. "People have been getting," he glanced at Sam, "restless. We started spreading through Gaul because of you. David made it clear to everyone that whoever stole his cousin would be punished. Once you'd been gone for a while…well. That story didn't last. He took Thrace, and then Macedonia, and now we're here, in Greece."

"Hapless conquering?" Kurt asked, with his eyes opened wide in disbelief. "What has been going on in David's head? But what does that have to do with Blaine?"

Sam and Noah exchanged another glance. "He came with us throughout Gaul. Queen Vivienne wasn't happy about that decision, by the way," Sam said.

"She and my father were born Franks," Kurt whispered.

"Yes. Blaine was with us for several months, while David still said that our only concern was finding you."

"Then he began to get suspicious," Noah picked where Sam broke off. "We hadn't found you. We'd spread out in every direction from the place you were taken and had no luck. No one had seen you. No one had heard even a whisper as to your whereabouts."

"Blaine started to get frustrated with the king," Sam continued. "He picked fights. He called David out for not really wanting to find you. When we left Gaul for Thrace, he refused to fight. He said that it was wrong and we were killing innocent people for no reason other than the king's lust for blood and land. David sent him back to Lima with express orders to not leave the city. He said that Blaine's temper would lose the war for us."

"What war?" Kurt asked quietly. The more questions he asked, the more he realized that he didn't know anything.

"_Exactly_," Noah said.

"So that's it then," Kurt said, tossing up his hands. "My cousin has completely lost his mind. He's some sort of…some sort of killing animal!" Sam and Noah simultaneously shushed him. Kurt gaped at them as they cast shifty looks around, as if someone could be listening. "What is wrong with you two? What has David done to you? What has he done to this _nation_?"

"You can't just go around saying that the king has lost his mind," Noah whispered heatedly. "People are starting to call him the Red King, Kurt. Blaine was lucky that nothing worse happened to him. You know what this means, don't you?"

"Red," Kurt repeated. "As in…blood?" Noah nodded shortly and Kurt looked at him helplessly. "But…it's not even been a year since I was taken! How can things change so quickly?"

"That's the way the world goes," Sam said. "King David has just returned to Lima, only for a while, to regroup and replenish supplies. We're supposed to follow him in one week, but considering the circumstances, I say we set out tomorrow, as fast as we can ride."

"And Blaine is there?" Kurt asked again.

Sam's head tilted to the side in quirked inquiry, but Noah, who didn't know better, waved his hand in dismissal. "Yes, yes, he's there. Or else he'd better be. If David reaches Lima and he isn't, there will be hell to pay.

"Tomorrow then," Sam said, nodding at Kurt. "On the way, it's your turn to tell us your side of the story."

They rode fast to Lima. On the way, Kurt informed Sam, and Noah, who was a sudden ally, of everything that had happened to him. He started from when he was taken, and ended with Kova letting him go in the forest. To their credit, they listened with rapt attention. Kurt only left out the intimate nature of his and Blaine's true relationship. He even included the part about his close encounter with Suaite.

Three days later, with Sam and Noah filled with almost every bit of information that he possessed, they came within view of Lima.

"Welcome home," Noah whispered as they crested the nearest kill and got a view of the city.

To Kurt's eyes, it was surreal. After being away so long, it almost didn't feel like his home at all. But if Lima wasn't his home, what was? He scanned the castle and the city, but his gaze fixed on something outside of the city walls – something coming toward them. "Who is that?" Kurt asked.

"I'm not certain," Noah said suspiciously. "David shouldn't be riding out for a while, if he's even here yet. They don't look like soldiers though. I suppose we'll see in a moment."

Not five minutes later, the small group of horses pulled before them. Kurt's jaw dropped slowly as he saw who led the group. "Lord Ander," he whispered, chilled for a reason he didn't know.

"Prince Kurt," said Blaine's father. Kurt noted that he didn't seem surprised to see him, even though no one had sent word ahead about his appearance. "So you've returned. At least…if that's actually you under all of that choice dirt and grime."

"He didn't _run away_," Noah said fiercely, stepping forward. "It isn't as if he was on vacation. Kurt was taken with violent force and held against his will."

Lord Ander surveyed Noah. "So I hear," he said coolly. His gaze returned to Kurt. "Tell me, why would your everyday snatcher care to capture a prince? Why would they risk assaulting a grown, _trained_ knight to do it? What I mean to ask, is why they would do all of that…and then not ask for a ransom?"

"I've been wondering that myself," Kurt told him. "I don't suppose you could illuminate the matter?"

Ander's jaw twitched and he leaned forward in his saddle. "What exactly are you insinuating, boy?"

"I think that's enough," Noah said loudly, glaring at Lord Ander. "As a grown, _trained _knight myself, I'm obliged to inquire about your business."

"I was visiting quickly with the king," Lord Ander said, straightening up, "but he hasn't returned home yet. You see, I've been abroad for a while, and I had a few things to…sort out upon my return. Speaking of return, my own home calls. You understand, I'm sure, Kurt, after being away from your own home so long. When the king does return from his quest, inform him that I've been here."

Kurt didn't say anything until Ander had left. His heart was pounding in his ears and all of his senses were on alert. "_When the king does return from his quest," _Noah mimicked in a faux-deep voice. "He says it like it's some sort of crusade."

"At least you didn't have to stay with him at his castle," Kurt mumbled.

"I couldn't do it. I do _not_ like that man," Noah whispered to him as they continued toward the city. "I can hardly believe he's Blaine's father. They're so unalike."

"You have no idea," Kurt told him. They passed through the city and were immediately greeted with frantic whispers. People rushed quickly into their houses and then ran back to Kurt as he walked up the city street to hand him flowers, or claim that it was they who knew all along that he would return. He had to beckon dozens of people up from their knees. Dressed in the same rags he'd escaped in and swathed in filth – their progress had been too hurried to allow for any stops – Kurt had learned humility ten times over.

Word of mouth traveled faster than the men's feet. When Kurt reached the castle walls, his father was there and he was immediately being pulled into a bone-crushing hug which he returned with emotional enthusiasm.

"Kurt," Duke Burton whispered, his voice breaking as he held his son close. "My son…I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I'd lost you."

"Father." Kurt held him close, not keen to let go anytime soon. However, that was all he could say. What else was there? 'I've missed you' didn't adequately convey the deep ache he'd gotten in his heart when he woke up every morning and realized he was in a strange tent. 'I love you' was too weak of a phrase to describe the immensity of his emotion as he held his father, whom he had frequently thought he would never lay eyes on again.

The duke – who had never been one for embraces – kept one arm around his son as they walked into the castle. Noah had slunk away, leaving them alone together. "A servant came up to me," Kurt's father explained. "They said that you were walking through the city…back from the dead, they told me. I had never been so mad in my entire life. I thought that they were being insolent. I would have fired them from castle service immediately had not one, then another, come up to me saying the exact same thing. They said that you'd been found by Noah and Samuel. Kurt…I don't know what happened to you, but I cannot say how happy I am to see you with my own two eyes again."

Kurt felt ashamed for initially thinking only of Blaine at the castle. Of course, there was his father. There was Aunt Vivienne, Finn, Carole, Mercedes, Daphne, and so many others there who were also missing him – whom he was also missing. He opened his mouth to formulate some sort of meaningful utterance when two people rounded the corner, running without shame.

Queen Vivienne had Finn's hand in hers, clinging to it as if it held the power of life. He bobbed along behind her, effectively being dragged. Both had their eyes set on him. The queen's other hand was occupied with holding up her long skirts so that her legs could run unimpeded, and run they did. They reached him in a moment, and the queen flung herself onto Kurt, throwing her arms around him and burying her head in his shoulder, heedless of his less-than-clean state.

Kurt was in shock. He had never seen his aunt with such an utter lack of composition, even when his mother had died. "Aunt Vivienne," Kurt said, rubbing her back gently. "Shh, I'm here."

"You had died," she said. "You were all but dead, Kurt. So many things have happened. We all thought that you were lost."

"I'm here now," Kurt assured her. A few more minutes of assurance later, she had calmed down enough to let Kurt go, and she shifted her fierce grip to her brother's hand as Finn moved to embrace Kurt. "Your hand," Kurt whispered when they pulled away, glancing down at Finn's ring-less finger.

"It's a long story," Finn said, "a story for another time. Kurt…brother…how are you alive?"

They drew Kurt into a nearby sitting room. Several minutes later, they were joined by Carole, who also sat down with many more tears and embraces and comments about his clothes and hair and how she could feel his ribs poking out when they hugged. Hours were wheedled away as Kurt first told them almost every detail of his story. He left out some more graphic parts – such as the situation with Suaite – for his aunt and parents' sake. He would tell Finn later.

In turn, they took turns informing him of what was happening in Algania. "Where _is_ David?" Kurt asked. "He was supposed to be ahead of us but we ran into someone on the way who said he wasn't here."

"They weren't traveling as fast as you," Aunt Vivienne said. "He should be here tomorrow. We can save all of the politics for then, and find out why we never received your ransom. For now, you must be exhausted."

"You have no idea," Kurt said with a rueful smile. "I think I'll stay here for a moment though, just to…sort my thoughts. So much has happened in the past few days."

"Stay as long as you need," said Vivienne, placing a kiss on his forehead.

Carole followed with one on his cheek, his father squeezed his shoulder, and Finn promised, "We'll talk more later." Then, just like that, he was alone.

Overwhelmed in a way words were unfit to describe, Kurt hauled a small couch close to the fire, so that he could feel its warmth. He stared into the flames and tried to banish from his mind everything in particular. His cousin wasn't returning until tomorrow, and until then, Kurt didn't want to think about anything. All he wanted was, for once, the luxury of having to worry about _nothing_. But it wasn't meant to be.

Chills ran through Kurt's spine, and the hairs on his arms stood on end. He knew that someone was behind him before they made a noise, and before he turned around. What was more: he knew exactly who the person was.

"Sam told me where to find you," he whispered. Kurt's eyelids fluttered closed as Blaine's familiar yet unfamiliar voice filled his ears. He felt the choked feeling of his throat that meant tears wanted to well, but he had shed all that he could for one day. "I…I wanted to wait until you were alone. And I was…scared. Scared that it was all a joke and that I'd show up and you would still be gone…and I would still be alone. But you're here. Kurt, look at me, please."

Kurt bit his lip and bowed his head, his back still facing Blaine and his eyes still closed. "I can't," he said softly.

Blaine drew a shaky breath. "Please." His voice broke over the appeal. "I couldn't tell anyone how awful this was. Not even my mother, who knows about us. I don't _have_ anyone, Kurt. I have you, and you're my everything. You're all I've ever needed and suddenly you were gone, missing, dead, and it was entirely my fault. I don't know what people have told you about what's been happening." Kurt didn't respond. "I wanted to look for you," Blaine continued. "I wanted to spend every second of every day looking for you, finding what I'd been stupid enough to get taken away from. Staying here wasn't my choice."

"I know," Kurt said.

Blaine stepped forward but hesitated. Kurt wished that Blaine would reach forward and touch him. He wanted to feel his hands tracing over the planes of his face and smoothing out the worry lines that had taken up residence there. He wanted to feel the feather light feeling of Blaine's eyelashes against his cheek as they pulled away from a kiss and leaned their foreheads together. But Blaine didn't reach forward.

The other side of the couch depressed and Kurt felt sudden warmth at his side, though Blaine wasn't touching him. Hoping that the love of his life – for that, Kurt realized, was what Blaine was – wouldn't disappear when he tried to confirm his presence, Kurt took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

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><p><em>AN: I am sorry in advance for leaving you with this...I would cry if an author ended a chapter like this on me "^^ Cliff-hangers are just something I can't seem to resist! As consolation though, I'm now on Christmas break which means no school which means quicker updates! :D (Also, if you want something else to read, you should go read my other period Klaine piece, Strangers In The Night, which just went up! Goooooo and drop me a note! :D)_

_Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! :3_


	21. Chapter 21 :: The Fourth Meeting

_A/N: Methinks I have my lovely, perfect friend Angelica to thank for this chapter being out when it is - so...er...right now ^^ She gave me a little kick in the arse :D Out of curiosity though, I wondered how long I'd spent on this story, and lo and behold, Word has a function for that. It appears that I have spent exactly 68,299 minutes writing and editing PC so far, which is about 1,138.32 hours and roughly 47.4299 days. WOW. THERE'S a fun fact for you, LOL_

_Anyways, sorry for the wait as always, and please enjoy! :D _

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><p>When Blaine had been nothing but a memory, Kurt had been able to keep himself together. Memory Blaine was blurry. Kurt remembered every plane of his face and body but his mind couldn't recreate the exact amber color of his eyes, or the precise lilt of his voice. Memory Blaine paled in comparison to the Blaine who was right in front of his eyes, but the actual Blaine was so different from the one Kurt had been separated from.<p>

The actual Blaine had bags etched under his eyes, a dark color that made his skin pale. Actual Blaine had grown thinner, so that his angles were sharper than they were before. Actual Blaine tapped his fingers against his thigh incessantly – a nervous tic. Actual Blaine looked weary, like he'd experienced too much for his twenty-one years. Actual Blaine looked almost frightened to come any closer to him.

In just the same way, Kurt was afraid to approach Blaine. They were separated by a palpable chasm that felt unbearably daunting. Kurt inhaled a deep, shaky breath and said the first thing that came to his mind: "Finn didn't get married."

Blaine's eyebrows drew together. "What are you…no. Kurt. What does that matter? What does it matter when you're here, and I'm here and…and how is it that I don't know what to say? Not to you. Which is strange…you've always been the one I could say anything to…anything at all. And now you're talking about…_Finn_."

"It's because of me isn't it?" Kurt continued. "It's because of me that Finn didn't marry Quinn."

"Among other things," Blaine said with confusion evident in his voice. "Kurt, I'm…confused…"

"And David's gone," Kurt persisted. "He's gone and killed half of the continent. He's a monster. That's because of me, too."

"Kurt," Blaine began knowingly, but Kurt cut him off.

"You're cooped up here in Lima. That's because of me, too. Now you…you don't know what to say to me, even though before you went to Ashtabula you said you'd always have something to say to me," Kurt said, his voice starting to shake. "You don't know what to say to me now and that's because of me, too. Everything's because of me. All of this is my fault." Though Kurt had thought he had sobbed away his last tear, the influx that next came proved him wrong. What parts of him that were holding themselves upright sank against the couch. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting hot tears pour down his face. He wasn't sad, nor was he scared, nor was he angry. He had already felt those emotions. He had felt every emotion he could think of, including over-emotion, and now the majority of what he felt was the unrelenting sense that things were utterly, completely, irreversibly out of his control.

"Kurt," Blaine repeated quietly. Kurt heard him inhale sharply and then, just like that, Blaine crossed the chasm. Kurt felt his torso being scooped into Blaine's arms, and Blaine just held him. Kurt leaned his head forward and pressed his face against Blaine's collar bone. Five minutes might have passed, or ten, or fifteen, or twenty. All Kurt knew was that he was in Lima, and he was in Blaine's arms. Minutes passed in silence until, "You still remember what I said to you before I left for Ashtabula?"

In spite of himself, Kurt let out a watery laugh. "You'd be surprised what I remember," Kurt said.

Blaine met him with silence. "This past year," he started.

"Don't," Kurt interrupted him, pulling back from their embrace and fixing Blaine with a pleading gaze. He moved to lace Blaine's fingers through his own. "Can you just…hold me? Just for tonight? Please, don't ask me about…what happened, not yet. Tomorrow's a different day, but for now just…just hold onto me like we don't have tomorrow to think about. As if we have forever to just be together."

"We do have forever to be together," Blaine said, returning the pressure of Kurt's hand. He pulled Kurt toward him and cradled him against his chest. "The little monster is here," Blaine mused.

"I figured," Kurt said, turning his head slightly and burying his nose into the front of Blaine's shirt. "Is she…?"

"Tomorrow," Blaine promised, leaning down and placing a kiss on Kurt's head. Beginning to smile, he lifted a hand and gently stroked Kurt's hair. "You look so different. Look at your hair!"

"Ugh, it's hideous," Kurt lamented. "It reaches my collarbone. And I'm filthy."

"Mmm, I don't care," Blaine said, cupping Kurt's cheek. "I don't care how long your hair is. I don't care how filthy you are. You're perfect, and I can't believe that my arms are around you again."

"I dreamed about you a lot," Kurt said. He was breaking his own plea not to talk about what had happened to him during the year he'd been gone, but he felt like he needed to say it. "Almost every night. It's strange, we've been apart for most of our lives, but we've never really…been apart."

"I know what you mean," Blaine said. His fingers lightly began to comb through Kurt's hair, gently and soothingly working out the knots. "We've been apart, but I've always known that you were here in court."

"We haven't been apart since," Kurt suddenly felt shy, and he blushed, "since we started to love each other…the way we do now. By a larger timescale, that hasn't been very long." Kurt sighed as Blaine's fingers wound in and out of his hair, down his cheek, over his closed eyelids.

Blaine leaned down and pressed a kiss to Kurt's forehead. His lips lingered there, and Kurt felt a hot tear drip onto his skin. "Blaine," Kurt whispered, sitting up slowly. Blaine had his head bowed, and his fingers tapped nervously against his thigh. "Shh." Kurt crooned and inched closer to Blaine, moving one leg over his so he sat straddling Blaine on the couch.

Kurt reached up and wiped the sudden tears from Blaine's face with both thumbs. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Blaine's damp cheek. "Why are you crying?"

"It doesn't matter," Blaine said haltingly. He took a shaky breath and gently moved Kurt off of him. "You probably want to sleep, or be alone. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Sleep would probably be wise," Kurt said quietly, looking away from Blaine. He stood and walked to the closed door. He paused before opening it. Kurt's hand reached out to the knob, and instead of twisting it, he latched the lock and turned back to Blaine. "I haven't seen you in almost a year," he continued quietly. "I've been alone for _almost a year_. I don't want to be with anybody else, but I can't be apart from you – not anymore. Please."

Blaine's lips pressed together and he ducked his head. "Come here," he said quietly, his voice cracking.

Kurt moved toward him, and their lips met in a simultaneous exhale of hot breath. Kurt breathed in shakily through his nose, and his hands moved to cup Blaine on both sides of his face, bringing him closer to deepen their kiss. Blaine's arms wound around Kurt's waist tightly.

Kurt drew away and began placing feather-light kisses to Blaine's cheekbones, nose, forehead, while Blaine muttered half formed words and sentences. Oscillating between whispers and sighs and deep kisses, Kurt and Blaine slowly made their way from the door to the couch. Kurt felt Blaine's cold fingers brush against the skin of his stomach and he shivered from both cold and pleasure.

In time, both Kurt and Blaine were relieved of their shirts, and then their breeches. They kissed slowly, drawing out their movements with a slowness that was almost torturous. They were pressed skin to skin, and Blaine moved Kurt back-first onto the couch. His mouth traced a smooth line down Kurt's neck, stopping to rest against his pulse before continuing on sensuously to his chest, where Blaine left a trail of feather light kisses.

Kurt sighed at the feeling of Blaine's lips on his skin, a feeling that he could remember well but hadn't felt in too long. Blaine moved upward again and his lips caught Kurt's once more. Sweat-slicked skin skimmed together as Blaine lifted Kurt's leg and hooked it over his hip. "Blaine," Kurt whispered softly against his mouth. He let out a sharp gasp as Blaine moved his lips and hummed against his neck.

"Can I?" Blaine's brief question was followed by Kurt placing a series of frantic kisses against his lips and face.

"I just want you," Kurt whispered against Blaine's neck. Blaine met him in a push of anticipation and hiss of bated breath. Kurt sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden perfect pressure. Mild discomfort faded away in the wake of ecstasy and Kurt arched upward and moaned softly at the sensation. He clung to Blaine as they moved together, nails drawing across Blaine's back at the almost unbearable pleasure that was suddenly coursing through him until he felt Blaine shudder and his arms weaken. Kurt let out a succession of breathless, frantic gasps as Blaine took him to and then over the edge.

Blaine turned to the side until he was spooning Kurt. Their skin pressed together warmly and comfortingly, and Kurt couldn't help but sigh with content. "Tomorrow?" Blaine asked, his voice barely audible.

Kurt pressed back against him, so that he was as far into Blaine's embrace as he could sink. "Tomorrow," he confirmed. He closed his eyes as he was hit by a wave of exhaustion. "Blaine?" he asked suddenly, turning to look at the man in whose arms he laid.

"Mhmm?" Blaine mumbled. His head rested on his arm and his eyes were closed.

"A lot of things have gone wrong," he said. "But that doesn't mean that the universe doesn't want us to be together."

Blaine's amber eyes opened and he looked at Kurt questioningly. "What do you mean? Of course the universe wants us to be together. If nothing else, I think it's proven that."

Kurt smiled. The Blaine from his dream, while he was at the Raju's camp, had said that it was possible the universe wanted to tear them apart. But Blaine, the actual Blaine who was lying with him so intimately in spite of the consequences, didn't believe that for a moment. "Nothing," Kurt said, leaning in to kiss Blaine softly. "I just love you."

Blaine smiled a brilliant smile. It was a smile that made the tired bags under his eyes seem to fade, and he looked just like Blaine had always looked to Kurt – perfect. "I love you, too."

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><p><em>AN: AHHHH OMG GUH THAT WAS SO FLUFFY. I'm going to a dentist tomorrow to fill all the cavities I got from writing that bit of fluffy fluffness. SOrry it was rather short but I thought it was a nice place to cut off the chapter. I hope it gave you all the best kind of sweet-induced cavities possible, and that you liked it!_

_ABSTRACT SEX TOO, I don't think I've ever done it that way before so I hope it sufficed. Leave a review and let me know what you think!_

_Thanks for reading! :3 _


	22. Chapter 22 :: Friends

_A/N: I wasn't actually planning on publishing this today but I got inspired and look what it did! _

_Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Early Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

When Kurt woke up the next morning, Blaine was gone. He was alone on the couch, though a blanket had been pulled over him and tucked around him meticulously. Kurt smiled at the small gesture and rubbed his eyes as he sat up. For the first time in ages, he felt rested.

He located his clothes from the day before and started to put on his pants. It was against his moral code to wear the same outfit twice in a row, but he figured that his appearance was already at rock bottom. He really didn't know how Blaine had been able to stand it.

Just as the thought of Blaine entered his mind and Kurt picked up his shirt, a small scrap of parchment fluttered down from between the folds of the clothes.

_Kitchen. – B_

Kurt smiled, turned the parchment over in his hands, and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. He slipped the shirt over his head and left the room in favor of the first floor kitchen.

"Kurt!" Kurt turned to see flailing limbs attempt to scramble up from where she'd been sitting on the floor. Angelica stuck to his side like a barnacle and rubbed her face back and forth in the fabric of his rather disgusting shirt. "I knew it. I _knew_ it. Blaine said that you'd been found and that he found you sleeping in here. I _knew_ you would be. Jameson said that they'd probably already found you _dead_ and just pretended to keep looking so no one would know. I _knew_ he was wrong. I got in trouble for slapping him, but I asked Arthur to come to the library with me – you know, because he can't fight anymore. He said that you saved him, Kurt! Is that – no, I was saying something else. He did math and found out that you could be anywhere over however many miles after so many months, and then he calculated how long it would take us to cover all of that space, and it was ages, Kurt, _ages_."

During her speech, Kurt had hugged Angelica back just as fiercely as she clung to him. Now that she was done, he pulled away and held her at arm's length. She was just at the age where even part of a year made a world of difference in her appearance. Her hair was longer and might have hung in ebony ringlets to her waist had it not been arranged by pins. Her face was slimmer, devoid of the last remnants of baby-like roundness, and she had the beginnings of a more womanly form. "Well, you were right," Kurt said fondly, beaming at her. "And…who is this Jameson?" He felt the sudden protective urge to give that child a piece of his mind.

Angelica rolled her eyes. "Only the most annoying boy in the entire court. He got assigned to his knight training in the _nearest_ fief, so he's in court all the time."

"You'll have to go see him with me," Kurt said, tossing an arm over Angelica's shoulders as they began to walk. "I think he and I need to have a word or two. How old is this boy?"

Angelica scrunched up her nose. "I don't know, Kurt. A year older I think."

Kurt made a disapproving noise at the back of his throat, feeling brotherly protectiveness creep over him. He wondered if Blaine knew who this _Jameson_ was. It was an emotion that completely drowned out his unease, which he knew he should be feeling. He'd been kept as what was essentially a prisoner for almost a year after being brutally torn away from Blaine while on the road. He should be scarred. He should be afraid of his shadow. He should be contemplating his own mortality and emotional trauma. He shouldn't think things were funny. He shouldn't have smiled when he saw Blaine's note and rushed out to meet him. He shouldn't want to tell off some boy just because he had riled up Blaine's sister. He shouldn't be _healing_ so quickly.

But he was. As Kurt walked down the corridor toward the kitchen, arm in arm with Angelica, he didn't see the bad things that he thought he should have. He didn't see the palace as his prison any longer but as a fortress that guaranteed his safety. All of the courtiers weren't wolves; they were people who loved him and therefore loved to watch him, learn about him, and emulate him. He took a deep breath as they descended a staircase to the first floor. The window shutters were open, and he could see the blue sky and smell flowers from the Queen's Garden.

"What are we doing?" Kurt thought to ask suddenly. He looked down at Angelica, who smiled as if she knew something that he didn't.

"Going to the kitchen."

"_I_ never told you that." He narrowed his gaze in playful suspicion. "You're in cahoots with Blaine."

She looked away and ducked her head to cover a giggle. "I like being here with Blaine, even if he has been grumpier than I've ever seen him, since…" Her sentence faded off, her laughter died, and she looked up at Kurt. "I got here in the spring, not long ago. Father didn't want me to come so early. He said that the boys who want to be pages won't come until early autumn, and the ladies shouldn't arrive until then either. Mother said that he was wrong, and that they could come whenever they wanted to." Angelica paused. "I've never seen Mama talk him like that before. She said that Blaine needed us and we were going, and since he'd been away for so long he didn't get to have a say. That was it."

"That's," Kurt started, not knowing what to say. "That's just…"

"I know," she interrupted calmly, patting his hand. Kurt stole a gaze at her through the corner of his eye, wondering when on earth she had gotten so mature. "But the point is that even after we got here, Blaine wasn't with us, not really. Then when I saw him this morning, he didn't even have to say anything for me to know what had happened. He was smiling. He never did that when you were gone."

Kurt inhaled deeply, a conflicted smile pulling at his mouth. Angelica's words shouldn't have worried him as much as they did. He hadn't thought about how Blaine had been acting in his wake. Kurt wanted to believe that people didn't know their secret but sometimes he doubted whether they didn't. It was becoming more and more apparent that they couldn't control how they acted around, and especially without, each other. It hadn't mattered when Kurt was at the Raju camp, but it would matter at court. In lieu of his presence and considering all the turmoil surrounding Dave and his army, Kurt figured that many eyes had been on Blaine for the past few months. He hoped that it was believable that Blaine had been so upset by his house arrest, and nothing more.

Feeling the need to know, Kurt stopped walking suddenly and crouched so that he was at eye-level with Angelica, who turned her gaze on him curiously. "Angie, I need to ask you something," Kurt said, "and I need you to tell me everything that answers that question, no matter what it is. Alright?" She nodded, suddenly looking unsure. "You said that Blaine never smiled while I was gone. Did people ever talk about that? Have you ever heard anything that people say about me or him?"

Kurt could immediately tell that she had. She reflexively bit down on her bottom lip, and her gaze fell on his right shoulder. "Maybe," she started quietly.

"Can you please tell me, Angie?" he asked her delicately.

When she looked back up at him, her emerald eyes were brimming with tears. She shook her head so vehemently that some of her pins failed, and her thick ebony curls began to escape their arrangement. Kurt reached up and tucked one of her wilder curls behind her ear. She looked at him uncertainly for a few seconds, brow drawn together with worry, before speaking hesitantly. "Are you sure that you want to hear _everything_?"

"I'm sure," Kurt assured her.

"Adults don't notice children when they're slipping around places, and…maybe they think that even when we are there we can't possibly hear or understand what they're saying, because I've heard a few things. Bad things, Kurt." She squeezed her eyes shut and Kurt began to rub his thumb comfortingly across the back of her hand. "People…well, I'm not completely sure. You and Blaine are best friends, closer than brothers. People say things like that, and that isn't so bad. Then you got…taken…and Blaine started getting in trouble. That's when people started saying mean things. Everyone wanted you back, Kurt, truly, but they would look at Blaine like he was crazy. They'd sneer and say things about the knight who couldn't function without his," she visibly hesitated, "queen there to give him her favor." She cleared her throat and looked at the ground. "It was always things like that – about the knight and his queen. W-what does that mean, Kurt?" When she looked up at him, she had a wounded gaze, like their words had injured her directly, which they probably had.

As Angelica spoke, Kurt felt a hard slab begin to coagulate inside of his chest. He looked out over her shoulder until he felt her reach up and touch his cheek. He turned to her, and the slab immediately softened. Her entire face was written over with concern, and a couple tear tracks ran down her cheeks.

Kurt attempted a smile for her sake. "Stop," he said softly, wiping her tears away. "Don't cry, please. People say things like that when they're scared. Have you ever said anything you regret because you were scared?"

"I suppose," she whispered, still looking uncertain. "But people being mean just to make themselves feel better…that's horrible, Kurt. People shouldn't have a single thing to say about you or Blaine. You two are _better_ when you're around each other, like there are little pieces of you in the other."

"Not everyone is as smart as you, I'm afraid," Kurt said, groaning as he stood up straight on numb legs.

She gave him a half-smile. "I don't think I'll keep going," she said. "I don't want Blaine to see this." She motioned to her face, indicating the tears. "Will you keep going to the kitchen without me? Tell them I went into the garden maybe."

"Of course," he promised her. Kurt smiled until she faced away and began to walk back the way they had come. Once she was out of sight, the smile left his face entirely. Not fifteen minutes ago, he had been enthralled with the beauty of the world around him, and with one quick conversation with a junior member of court about the goings-on during his absence, he felt hopeless. Happiness was momentary – it was fleeting. Underneath it always was a running river of double meanings, backhanded comments, hasty assumptions, discontent, and rumors.

Kurt tried to banish the feeling as he entered the kitchen. What he saw there went far toward making him momentarily forget what Angelica had said, though he knew that he'd return to the subject later. Blaine sat on a table, swinging his legs back and forth. He was the first one to look at Kurt, as if he had sensed him come into the room, and he beamed at the look on Kurt's face. The prince couldn't help but notice how Blaine's fingers still compulsively tapped on his thigh in his newly acquired nervous tic.

He had come into the room quietly, so for a few seconds, no one else knew that he had entered, and Blaine didn't spoil the candid moment. Catalina stood over innumerable pots and pans and open flames, working with the speed of ten. Sam sat with crisscrossed legs on the floor. Mercedes's head was in his lap, and he was braiding her hair with the most intense concentration that Kurt had ever seen him apply to anything before. Kurt's hand rose to his mouth to hide his widening smile.

Gemma sat with her back to him – Kurt could tell it was her by the tell-tale hair – and she was bent over something on the table. Daphne said next to her, and upon closer inspection, Kurt saw that they were meticulously examining different types of stitches. Daphne raised her eyes from the fabric for a moment and looked in his direction. Her gaze almost slipped past him entirely, but then it doubled back. A look of confusion graced her delicate features for a moment before her face lit up.

Reacting to Daphne's change in expression, Gemma turned around. Her mouth opened in a gape of disbelief. Her head snapped back to make eye contact with Daphne for a split second before they both scrambled off of their seats and hurried toward him.

Their voices blurred into one another's indistinguishably as they tugged on his clothes and fiddled with his hair and cupped his cheek and clung to his arms. Kurt laughed and returned their hugs. He was nudged to a chair at the table Blaine sat at and for just a moment, it was just the two of them. Kurt glanced up at Blaine, his smile subdued.

"They all wanted to see you," Blaine explained. "I'd have liked to keep you to myself but I couldn't resist."

"Thank you," Kurt said sincerely. "I can't believe how much I missed everyone. I've taken advantage of their presence for so long." His hands fiddled restlessly on the tabletop.

Blaine reached out and his fingers stopped tapping momentarily as his hand brushed against Kurt's. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as Mercedes began nudging him in the side. "Move, move," she instructed. Blaine drew his hand back to himself and quickly hopped off of the table as Catalina and her daughter began piling plates in front of Kurt.

"Shredded potatoes," Sam said with reverence, reaching for the dish.

Catalina slapped his hand away. "Not for you."

Sam pulled a pouting face. "Aw, come on, Catalina. I've been gone for _ages_. I just want some of the best cooking in Europe upon my return, is that too much to ask?"

"He can have some," Kurt said, grinning at Sam.

Catalina narrowed her gaze suspiciously. "Leave some for Prince Kurt," she instructed.

"Got it," he said, as he pulled the plate toward him and began shoveling shredded potatoes into his mouth.

As they began to ate, Daphne and Gemma appeared again, seemingly attached at the hip. In Daphne's hand was the most blessed instrument that Kurt had ever seen. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked with his mouth full.

She grinned. "Not while you eat. It's unsanitary."

Kurt immediately dropped his breakfast roll onto his plate and pushed his chair away from the table and into a deserted corner of the kitchen. "I'm ready. Do it. Do it, _please_. This is killing me; you have no idea how much it's killing me."

Daphne laughed and nodded at Gemma, who was holding a large sheet. She shook it out and placed it over his front like a backward cape. She tugged around the edges until he was covered completely and tied two corners together behind his neck. Before Gemma leaned away, she leaned close and kissed his cheek. "I'm so happy that you're back, love," she whispered in his ear. "Can we talk later? Alone?" Kurt nodded minutely, curiosity wakened.

He beamed at Daphne as she approached him with the hair shears. She stood behind him and crouched down enough to wrap her arms around him and prop her chin on one shoulder. "Just like how it used to be?" she asked.

Kurt smiled slowly as he realized the many meanings of that question. "Just like how it used to be," he confirmed.

* * *

><p>An hour later, short-haired and clean shaven, Kurt sat at the table finishing his large breakfast. Catalina, Mercedes, Sam, and Daphne had needed to go about their chores, and Gemma had gone to find her daughter, leaving only Kurt and Blaine. Kurt stole peeks at Blaine though his lashes. He was sitting on the table again, picking bits of baked cheese and meat out of rolls like it was a treasure hunt. He wondered if he should tell Blaine what Angelica had told him. He wondered if Blaine <em>knew<em>. Kurt didn't think so. Angelica had said that she'd heard those things because people were careless about talking in front of children. Kurt knew that they wouldn't be careless talking around Blaine.

He was just about to subtly bring up the subject when the kitchen door opened and Noah poked his head through. "Knock, knock," he said belatedly. He looked distracted and slightly distressed, which caught Kurt's attention.

"Noah?" he asked. "Anything wrong?"

He chuckled humorlessly. "Funny way to put it." He paused. "King David just returned. We sent a messenger to tell him about your recovery yesterday but apparently he didn't hear about it until today." His eyes went back and forth between Blaine and Kurt. "He says he hopes you're enjoying your return."

Kurt's eyebrows flew upward on his forehead. "That's it? That's all he said?"

Noah shook his head. "He wants you to come to him." He looked at Blaine with something like apology written into his eyes. "Both of you, and me as well. I volunteered to fetch you both. I didn't want anyone else to…" He looked away and cleared his throat. "The king is assembling in the Council Chamber. He wants you to recount everything that happened, Kurt, from day one to the moment you found us. The king said that after that, we're setting out again." Noah grimaced, as if the very words he had to speak next pained him. "To find the people who did this."

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><p><em>AN: There's that! DUN DUN DUN. Not a ton happened in this section - it's more of a lead up to what's going to happen in the next chapter - shit will fly people, I can PROMISE you. _

_I hoped you liked it anyways, and please leave a little note telling me what you thought! :D _


	23. Chapter 23 :: Enemies

_Early Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania_

They didn't say anything to each other as they walked, but every now and then Kurt and Blaine would exchange glances. Blaine's were always worried, and in the last five minutes he looked as if he had aged ten years. Kurt wondered if that was how he'd constantly looked while he had been gone. For his part, Kurt attempted to look reassuring. It didn't seem to be working.

When Noah opened the door and they saw into the antechamber, Kurt had to fight to keep his face straight. The last time he had been there, during their decision to engage in the Algo-Lithuanian War, it had still been as King Paul had always kept it. King Paul had gone to war just once, early in his kingship, and since then it had been used only as a place for annual meetings about state policy. It had been kept lit, with the wide windows uncovered, and the walls had been lined with paintings of past monarchs signing various accords.

It no longer looked like a room of peace. Heavy drapes were pulled over the windows, leaving the room to be lit only by dozens of flickering candelabras. The pictures had been removed to be replaced with both new and old, tattered maps. They lined the walls, and Kurt's eye was drawn to the large black x's and o's that covered many of them.

"That one there," Noah whispered so that the men in the other room wouldn't be able to hear him. He nodded to a large map of Europe and the Mediterranean that held many x's and few o's, especially in Algania and the outlying countries. "That's yours."

"What?" Kurt whispered, mortified.

"It's the map they used to keep track of where you weren't, and where you might be," Noah clarified. "The x's…that's where they…"

"They're the places they raided, presumably as they were looking for you," Blaine finished quietly.

Blaine made eye contact with Noah, and Kurt looked back and forth between the two of them. Something passed between their gazes that Kurt didn't understand. "Yes," Noah agreed finally.

They continued in from the antechamber. Kurt was uneasy. He hadn't missed how both Noah and Blaine had carefully said "they" rather than "we" or "him".

Inside the chamber proper, David had gotten rid of King Paul's round council table. He had replaced it with a rectangular one that had a raised platform at the center. With that addition, he sat a few feet higher than anyone else in the room.

David looked up as they entered. Many men were already present, and most seats were full. He was quiet for a moment before: "Late, as usual." He looked at them expectantly. "Sit down, then. We don't have all day."

Shocked into silence, Kurt wanted to the seat his cousin had motioned at – the one directly across from him. It had one chair open on other side. Blaine sat at his right and Noah at his left, and Kurt was grateful for their presence.

Nobody spoke. They all looked at Kurt, which unnerved him. Some faces were calculating and others were friendly. One man even waved at Kurt when he looked at him – Trent, he thought his name was. Overwhelmingly though, they were faces that Kurt didn't recognize. Even situated between Blaine and Noah's protective forms, Kurt felt like he was an outsider. It was a sensation that he wasn't familiar with, and he didn't enjoy it. He felt as if he was on display, but in a very different manner than he usually was. Beside him, Blaine fidgeted uncomfortably.

So slowly that it was awkward to watch, David inhaled deeply, leaned forward until his elbows touched the table, steepled his fingers, and pressed them to his lips thoughtfully. "Has your trauma been so great that you've completely lost all ability to speak?" Kurt's shocked gaze remained on his cousin, and he wondered if David had always been this compassionless and he had simply never noticed, or if it was a recent development.

The king continued. "Your hair is brushed, your face shaven. Your clothes are three years out of date. But then again," his voice turned mocking, "between your absence due to your brief toil with war, your unauthorized jaunty vacation, and your…ah, _abduction_…we've been at a complete standstill in that department." He paused, as if for effect. "We've been so lost without your asinine trends." He smirked and leaned back in his chair. "You look like a skeleton, but you've always been disappointingly flimsy even on your best days."

Kurt's jaw had tightened as David spoke. Familiar frustration crept into his gut. He tilted his head and smiled benignly. "You've gotten fatter," he pointed out. It wasn't particularly true. He was huge, to be sure, but most of it seemed to be muscle. "You're sweating even in this dank, chilly room, and…is that the beginnings of a _bald patch_ that I see? On the other hand, your cutting wit and overt tendency to insult others to mask your own gaping ineptitudes has undoubtedly been honed."

David feigned surprise. "Oh, so they _didn't_ cut out your tongue in that grimy eastern hole you were found in." Kurt felt a stomp on his left foot – a warning from Noah – and he decided not to dignify his cousin with a retort. David sighed and motioned to the scrawny man next to him. "Write down everything he says. The rest of you, listen for names and descriptions. Kurt, go."

"…What?"

"Go. Talk. Tell us what happened to you. We've wasted half our lives searching for you, so we'll obviously be seeking retribution."

Kurt shook his head. "It wasn't anyone – a band of misfits with few weapons and more desperation than was their due."

"Then tell us who their leaders are and we'll make examples of them. This was unacceptable."

Speechless, Kurt scrabbled for something to say. Would he sell out Sokko, the man who functioned always in complete blindness? He was just and fair to his people…but he had also been the one to take him. Would he condemn Alku, the kind medicine woman? She had taken care of him and sympathized, but she had never attempted to see him to his freedom. Would he lead an army to the Raju and take the risk that they would kill Tammuz and Ishtar, or, God forbid, Kova?

"They sent a ransom," Kurt said instead. "From what I can tell, it never reached you. I think that you should be more focused on who intercepted it."

David's brow furrowed. His cousin was a buffoon and a bully sometimes, Kurt knew that, but his emotions were always worn on his sleeve. He hadn't known about the ransom.

"Who wouldn't want you returned?" he asked. "What enemies do _you_ have?" Kurt shrugged in answer. David turned to the scrawny man. "Make a list of potentials. I'll pick a group to find them and bring them here, for interrogation. In the meantime," he looked back at Kurt, "directions to your ragtag group of misfits, Kurt. I won't ask again."

Kurt gaped and looked around like a trapped, bewildered, wild animal. For all intents and purposes, he was.

"Enough," Blaine burst out, springing to his feet and bracing his hands on the table. "It's too soon for this. Kurt got back _yesterday_. This time a few days ago he was still being held as a prisoner. Show a little compassion toward him, for God's sake. If not as a king, then do it as a human being – as his _cousin_."

"Blaine," Kurt said tightly, not looking at him. "Be quiet."

"I won't," Blaine said. "He never takes you seriously when you fight back, and he needs to. You're next in line for the throne, Kurt, and he thinks you're a joke."

"Yes, Blaine, _do_ be quiet," David said, frowning at him. "I've only just gotten back and I already loathe the sound of your voice."

"_Right_, because you've been busy fighting a _war_." Blaine said the last word sarcastically.

"We've been fighting for the people in our country, which is more than I can say about you, Blaine," David said, also standing. "You only care for yourself and worse still, you only _fight_ for yourself."

"David," Kurt pleaded, trying to be rational. "That isn't true. You know it isn't."

"Oh of course," David said, voice quieting. "I forgot." He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the pair of them. "You also fight for _Kurt._ How quaint."

"_I_ fight for him because no one else will," Blaine said heatedly. "Not even you, and you're related to him by blood. You never cared about finding Kurt. You're power hungry. All you wanted was an excuse to raid the countryside and prove that you can be stronger than your father."

"Blaine," Kurt said in quiet warning. He shook his head but no one was listening to him.

"Here's some news that you didn't get, _Your Majesty_," Blaine said scornfully. "Power doesn't rely on how many people you've conquered. Power can come from many things, among them _control_ – control of yourself and the strength you possess. You didn't need to ravage villages to find Kurt. The total of all the homes you burned, families you tore apart, and women that your hapless, imported, foot soldier pawns have raped doesn't add up to your greatness. It adds up to you being cruel, needlessly cruel. I was the only one not blinded or frightened enough by you to tell you the truth, which is a poor excuse to hate someone. Now, you're just proving me right. You're proving that you haven't done all of from some place of familial affection, because Kurt is _right here_, and you're doing it all over again."

When Blaine was done ranting, the room was quiet. All there was to be heard were Blaine's winded breaths. Kurt could hardly move. He turned slowly to look at David. His cousin was still standing, hands braced on the table in a perfect mirror image of Blaine. His large jaw was clenched, and his face was pale. His eyes were narrowed and livid.

"I have listened to you rant and rave like a lunatic for too long," David said steadily. "I put up with it at first but you've gone too far. A knight's loyalties lie first and foremost to his king –"

"My loyalties lie to Algania," Blaine said with dangerous quietness, "but not to you."

"_Enough_." When David slammed his hand down on the table, everyone jumped and turned to look at him. "I will not be made a fool of and I will not stand for this insubordination. You will face me one on one, at the dueling yards on the morrow. You speak strong words, but they'll fail you when you try to put them into actions. Then we shall all see you in your rightful place."

Blaine's jaw clenched but he didn't say anything. He nodded once, shortly. David's top lip pulled back over his teeth in a brief snarl. He barked an order at his scrawny secretary and stormed from the room. After his exit, all was quiet for a moment. Then, all at once, the men broke their trance. Some glared at Blaine and left without a word. Others, now out of David's sight, came to him with offers of silent support. They trailed out, giving Blaine pats on the back and supportive words. Finally, only Blaine, Noah, and Kurt remained.

"Damn it, Blaine," Noah said with resignation after the last man had left. "How many times have we talked about this?"

"I know," Blaine said in a weak voice. He sunk back down onto his chair and leaned his head against the table. "He started talking like that, and I snapped. I'd been holding it in for so long while he was gone. I'm _right_, we all know it."

"_I _know it," Noah said, placing his hands on his own chest. "Others know it. We don't _all_ know it. It's frustrating, Blaine, but you _know_ that he has more supporters than dissenters, and you can't ever be safe when speaking treason when things stand as they are now. The imported soldiers you mentioned –"

"What are those?" Kurt interrupted. "I've never heard of them here before."

"Hired forces," Noah explained. "Mercenaries. The king bought an army that the country never would have been able to supply him. The problem with that," he continued, looking to Blaine, "is that they don't have an investment in the well-being of this country. They have an investment in themselves and the money that they're paid. You might be rallying citizen support, Blaine, but you'll never have the sheer force in numbers that David can accrue with the money he has."

"Rally support?" Kurt asked cautiously. He looked between the two of them suspiciously. "What do you mean by rallying support?"

"It _means_," Blaine said, "that I'm tired of being ruled by David, and I'm not the only one. Everyone knows that we have another heir ready for the throne, one that many people believe would be a better leader than what we have now. Now that you're back, things can finally move forward."

Kurt inhaled shakily, suddenly unable to put words to his thoughts. "Why didn't you _tell_ me any of this?" he asked quietly. "I've spent ample time with both of you since I returned, and neither of you mentioned a thing. You could have _prepared_ me instead of exploding in rage suddenly in front of David."

Moments flooded back to Kurt, moments that he should have put together.

When he overheard Noah talking to Sam: _"Things have been so different ever since…well."_

Sam's response: _"You aren't really so surprised it turned out this way, are you, Noah?"_

Noah's words to him in the tent: _"People have been getting restless."_

One of the first things Blaine said to him: _"I don't know what people have told you about what's been happening."_ And then, "_This past year…"_ only for Kurt to cut him off. Had he been about to tell him the truth?

Suddenly, everything that everyone had said to him was riddled with double meanings.

"_Are you sure that you want to hear everything?"_

"_Can we talk later? Alone?"_

"Oh my God," Kurt said, overwhelmed. He buried his face into his hands.

"Look what you did," Noah said pettily to Blaine.

"I didn't do anything. It's totally natural that he should feel overwhelmed."

"Because everything is happening so fast. You were supposed to tell him before things got to this."

"I _tried_. The moment wasn't right."

"A little busy, were you?"

At Noah's last question, Kurt's head shot up out of his hands and he looked up at the man with a startled expression. "_What_?"

Noah looked at him blankly for a second, and then his face broke down into accusation toward Blaine once more. "_Blaine_, damn it! Didn't you tell him anything?"

"I was trying to ease him into things," Blaine said delicately. His voice was more hesitant, and Kurt could tell that he thought he was in the wrong this time. "I didn't know he would call us together today. I thought that he'd have a little sitting room meeting with just Kurt."

"Really? After everything, _really?_"

"I never said it wasn't just wishful thinking," Blaine said hopelessly.

"What do you mean 'a little busy'?" Kurt asked again, looking back and forth between the two.

Noah looked at Blaine, his eyebrows raised expectantly. "I might've…while you were gone, a few people might've…this isn't easy to say, Noah, stop looking at me like that!"

"I know a few things that other people don't," Noah said delicately. "I found him sleeping with one of your shirts once. I know that sounds made up, but he was _that_ pathetic."

"Blaine," Kurt said accusatorily, anger broiling within him. "You _cannot_ be serious. Noah, Blaine? _Noah_?"

"I haven't told anyone," Noah said with an injured tone.

"That isn't fair, Kurt. You don't know what it was like while you were gone. Noah and I were the first ones to start talking about insurrection. We've had to hide a lot, and I trust him. We know how to keep our secrets."

"You could have fooled me," Kurt said, rubbing his temple. "I was the one talking you into telling someone a couple years ago, and now you're off giving our life story away while I'm trapped in a foreign country. By the way, I _do_ know how it was while I was gone. The only difference was that I didn't have any friends to unburden all of my troubles to." That wasn't true, but Blaine didn't know that.

"This isn't productive, what we're doing here," Noah intervened. "Blaine didn't tell you, but there's nothing to help that, and it's past now. I don't doubt that he meant well. We're all running on a thin wire here, you have to understand, Kurt."

"I have to go," Kurt said, pushing back his chair and standing. "For being so central to this _insane_ plan you have, you sure seem to think that you can do everything without me. You planned it while you didn't even know I was alive. Now that you do, you assume that I'll fall into step with you like another brainless royal. I won't be kept in the dark until the last moment, when you need me to figurehead your rebellion. I'm not a pawn, and I won't be used in such a way."

"Kurt," Blaine began, but Noah shook his head.

Final string pulled, Kurt huffed and began to walk away. "You two have fun with your secret planning."

He stalked into the antechamber and leaned his head briefly on the wall as he took a few calming breaths. He heard whispers start in the other room, and he crept closer to eavesdrop.

"I have to go after him," Blaine said.

Kurt heard a brief grapple, as if Blaine had moved away but Noah had grabbed him. "Don't you dare. He's heard so much in the past few days, how could we expect him not to react like this? And with you not telling him that you told me about you…"

"How was I supposed to?" Blaine whispered. "You saw him when he got back, Noah, he was ruined. How was I supposed to tell him that everything he knows has changed in his absence? We're not the same people he left, and he's not the same person he was when he was taken. I just wanted _one_ night when we were how we were before. I wanted one night before everything changed."

"I get it," Noah said. "Unfortunately, we don't have that much time to spare."

Having heard enough, Kurt crept back to the door and silently exited. Part of him had expected Algania to put itself on hold in his wake. He had never thought that life would continue on even faster because of his absence. He hadn't expected Blaine to run his mouth to people he didn't even talk to a little over a year ago. Noah and Blaine were suddenly best friends, sharing love lives and secrets and whispering of rebellions. Kurt vaguely recognized his upset feeling as that of jealousy, but he didn't want to acknowledge it.

He needed sanity, and that was where he was headed now. One of the sanest people he knew had already beseeched him for discussion. She might be the only one who actually wanted to tell him the truth.

Kurt found Gemma with Daphne. They were walking down the hall together with arms full of linens. Gemma was in rags, and her hair was tied up in a scarf that wasn't quite big enough to contain all of her curls. "What's going on here?" Kurt asked, genuinely curious.

"I abhor sitting around all day," Gemma said as he fell into step with them. "Daphne's giving me sewing lessons, and I'm more than happy to help her during the day."

"I begged her not to," Daphne interjected. "It is _so_ improper. But," the smile on her face grew, "Lady Elizabeth used to tie a handkerchief around her face, leaving only her eyes showing." Daphne chuckled. "She'd follow me around begging to get her hands dirty. She said the same thing. So when Gemma offered, I couldn't say no."

The picture of his mother creeping around with Daphne, disguised as a servant – a thing that Kurt had done with Sam – made Kurt smile. "Do you mind if I borrow her?" he asked.

"Get out of here," Daphne instructed Gemma playfully, adding Gemma's armload to her own. "You've been running around like a servant all day. If Queen Vivienne knew…"

"She knows," Gemma said pleasantly, beaming. Daphne rolled her eyes, face not surprised.

Gemma linked her arm through Kurt's, and they began to walk in silent agreement to the first floor and out to the Queen's gardens. "I'm glad that you came and found me," she said. "Though I'd have thought you'd be busy with legal matters today."

"Done," Kurt said uneasily. "Or they're at least dismissed for now. They didn't roll over very well."

Gemma made a noncommittal sound as they sat side by side on a stone bench. It was the beginning of summer, so flowers spilled from every plot of soil, and planted trees were beginning to exchange their blossoms for fruit. "Care to explain?" she asked finally.

"You first," Kurt said miserably, looking down at his feet.

After a moment, Gemma let out a sigh of pity, and wrapped her arms around him. Kurt leaned his head on her shoulder thankfully and returned her hug. "Poor dear," she said, rubbing his back. "Kurt, I don't know if anyone has told you this since you've been back, but I have to commend you."

He scoffed. "Why?"

"God only knows what you've had to endure," she said, "and no matter how you were treated, you were still being kept prisoner for almost a year. You didn't let it break you. You're strong. You've always been strong. It's one of the most notable things about you."

"Like how strong I was during the Winter Ball?" Kurt asked. "You're right, I should be _proud_ of myself. Dave was right; I am flimsy at my best."

"That is _not_ accurate," she said firmly, pulling back and holding him at arm's length. "You need to have more self-confidence. You might not be able to see it now that you're here, but so many people were lost in your absence, Kurt. Your aunt, for one. Your father, your friends, me…and Blaine," she added.

"_Him_," Kurt said almost scornfully, tucking his knees against his chest. "Sure he was."

"I take it you've found out," Gemma said delicately. Kurt nodded. "I'd hoped to get to you before someone else told you. Blaine has been acting…he isn't the same, Kurt."

"You're telling me," Kurt agreed. "He isn't the same at all. I've been back a day and he's already keeping ten kinds of secrets from me."

"Trying to protect you," Gemma said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "We'd all like to protect you, Kurt. Did he tell you that he'd only started thinking of a rebellion once the king banished him back to the castle? He couldn't work at finding you actively anymore, so he and Noah began to exchange letters in code. Noah would tell Blaine where they were and what they were doing, and Blaine would consult Arthur's mathematical maps and give Noah percentage chances of where you were likely to be. Noah would tell them to the king. They started complaining about the order of things because the king would almost always go against the calculated advice Noah gave to him."

"How is this supposed to make me feel better?" Kurt asked.

"Blaine never stopped searching for you," she said quietly. "He was…consumed by his need to find you. Without you there, he had nothing to lose, and that's how he got so reckless. Now that you're back, I wanted to ask you if you could…bring him back to reality. He's been so close to getting into trouble so many times, Kurt."

"I think this is coming too late," Kurt said with a sinking feeling. "David called some men together in the Council Chamber today. Blaine didn't hold his tongue very well. David challenged him to duel tomorrow."

Gemma looked away, up to the sky, and then cradled her face in her hands. "This is out of control," she confided quietly. "When did Algania become a hotbed for turmoil, Kurt? I feel as if I woke up one day, and nothing was how I knew it to be the day before."

"I can sympathize," Kurt said quietly.

"How did you feel…when they told you?" Gemma asked, looking at Kurt. "Do you think…that is, would you do it?"

Kurt had been dreading the question. "I don't want to think about it," he answered. "There are too many things in the way right now. It's too far removed."

"Not as far as you might think," she said. "The people who know about the reality of the situation are very few: Blaine and Noah started it. Blaine had to bring in Arthur, because he did the research. He confided in me next, and I found out more little by little. They needed ears outside of the nobility, so Sam and Daphne have been spreading seeds within servant ranks. Owing to his life before Carole married your father, Finn has connections to the merchant class. He has personal ties to you, so Blaine and Noah talked to him and he has been listening to the whisperings in the middle classes. Though only a few are in our inner circle, many more sympathize for a movement, Kurt. Many people dislike the king. They think his wars are unnecessary, and they don't want their fathers, brothers, and sons killed haplessly. They may dislike King David, Kurt, but no one dislikes you." She shrugged. "That's everything."

"It's a lot to take in," Kurt said, struggling for words. "Blaine didn't tell me any of this yesterday. It's all been thrust upon me."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry for it, Kurt. But Blaine…he's been having a hard time while you were gone."

"I've been thinking," Kurt suggested delicately. "That people have been looking at me differently since I returned. I realize now that it could be because of this…movement. But I asked Angelica earlier, if people had been saying things about Blaine and I." Gemma inhaled and looked away. "Do people know, Gemma? Christ, I mean, theoretically, if I was willing to figurehead this movement, how could people take me seriously if they're whispering that I'm a sodomite behind my back?"

"People just want something to latch onto," she said, sounding uncertain. "No one knows that. Gossip is vicious. They have no reason to believe it and nothing to prove it with."

Kurt sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees. "No proof except how Blaine's been acting. He was absolutely volatile today."

"Do you…do you still love him?" Gemma asked hesitantly. "I don't know what he did Kurt, but I do know that he still loves you. I know that of the things he's done, no matter how hasty or irrational, all have been his attempts to save you."

After a drawn out silence, Kurt spoke. "Yes," he said. "I still love him. I think I love him more than ever, and that's why I can't help but be mad at how he's put himself in danger. I don't think I could stop loving him if I tried."

Gemma scooted closer to him, leaned her chin on his shoulder, and slung her arm around his shoulders. "When Blaine was born, I imagined that he'd grow up to be one of the strongest knights in Algania. I imagined that he'd marry the most beautiful noblewoman in the land and I would cry at their wedding because everything had turned out so perfectly. I'd have grandchildren who were well-mannered and cherubic." She paused, and Kurt glanced at her uncertainly. "Now, when I look back on that fantasy, I realize that in it, I never factored in love. I never even considered it. Perhaps because I never had it, it wasn't even something I thought of for Blaine." She beamed at Kurt. "I couldn't be happier that Blaine never married the most beautiful noblewoman in the nation. I never thought I would be so proud that he doesn't have cherubic children. Somehow, he found you and fell in love, and somehow, you love him too. Blaine found love like so many people don't, like I didn't, and really, that's all you need."

In spite of himself, Kurt was smiling at the end of Gemma's speech. "You're not totally right about not having love," he told her, taking her hand in his. "You might not have married for love, but you have innumerable people who love you here."

Gemma smiled, almost sadly. "Let's hope that holds true," she said. "Can you talk to Blaine before tomorrow?"

Unpleasantly, Kurt was reminded of the duel. "Yes," he agreed.

"Nothing too terrible would happen to him, would it, Kurt?"

"No," Kurt lied. In reality, he didn't know what David might do. "Nothing bad will happen to him. Not if I can help it."

* * *

><p><em>AN: It had to happen some time! Things have been building up and pressurizing for AGES and it had to explode at some point! Let me know what you thought, and thanks for reading! :D_


	24. Chapter 24 :: The Duel

_A/N: The only comment I'll make before this is that as of this installment, PC is officially longer than Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in Word (holy smokes)._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Early Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

It was only after dawn broke the next day that Kurt went to Blaine. He had kept away from him the day prior after talking to Gemma, though it had mostly been on principle. He would have been embarrassed to snap back into place at Blaine's side so quickly after storming away. But with the dawn came David's challenge and Kurt couldn't be stubborn any longer.

He knocked on the door and was immediately answered with, "Come in." Kurt opened the door and stepped into Blaine's room. Blaine had his back turned. He was outfitted in a loose shirt and padded breeches that were made special for combat dueling.

"Before you ask, yes I've eaten – eggs, if you must know." Blaine started speaking without turning. "No, I won't have anything else. I'm already nervous enough. My stomach is in knots. I don't need to get sick while I'm supposed to be fighting." Blaine paused in the arranging of his armor, which was laid out on his bed, and began to turn around. "Also, _no_, I haven't spoken to…" His words faded as he saw who was standing in his doorway. "Kurt," he finished quietly.

Kurt's arms were folded tightly across his chest. "Expecting someone else?" he asked tightly.

Blaine cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You weren't supposed to hear that. I thought you were Sam."

"I suppose you've told him that we're lovers as well," Kurt snapped. "Shall I just go inform David myself then and get it over with quickly? That way everyone will know."

"Sam doesn't know," Blaine explained. "He knows that we worry about each other, and that's all. He wouldn't leave me alone yesterday, bothering me to talk to you about the revolution and to explain myself." He looked into Kurt's eyes. "I said you could use some time to yourself."

"Good," Kurt answered too quickly. "I did need time to myself."

Blaine sighed and turned toward Kurt fully. "Look," he started, holding out his hands as a gesture of peace. "Only Noah knows, and it's because he had to." Blaine's voice lowered. "If we're going to try and put you on the throne, he needs to know that I'm invested in you beyond the investment a knight would have for his liege, or even a friend for a friend. It's for everyone's safety." Blaine lowered his hands. "He was unexpectedly enthusiastic. After living in fear of our secret for so long, I didn't know how anyone would react. Noah is the best person to know, believe me."

Kurt observed him for a moment before stepping into the room fully. He left the door open to keep them both on their guard. "I suppose that I have no choice," Kurt said finally.

Blaine gave him a shrug and a half smile, and turned back toward his armor. "You're nervous?" Kurt asked quietly, picking at the corner of a chest of drawers.

"As I said," Blaine said guiltily. "You weren't supposed to hear that. I don't want to startle you unnecessarily."

"You should have said something," Kurt said, sitting down on a chair.

"Perhaps." From Blaine's tone, Kurt knew that he wouldn't have done anything differently besides turning around to make sure it was Sam before he spoke. He was acquiescing to avoid an argument, and Kurt appreciated the gesture.

"It's just a duel," Kurt said nervously. "First blood drawn, that's all. Nothing to be nervous about." They both knew that wasn't true. Dave had his kingship's honor riding on their fight. Kurt didn't know what his cousin would do if Blaine drew first blood, but he did know that Davis wouldn't sacrifice his pride that easily. After yesterday, Kurt knew what Blaine had invested in the brawl. David might acquire a bruise to his honor, but if Blaine lost, he would see his desired future slip away in a moment. He would lose people's faith in leading the fight against the king. If he couldn't best him in a gentleman's duel, how could people expect him to mastermind a revolution?

"Right," Blaine agreed unconvincingly. "It's just a duel."

The next minutes passed in a silence that was only broken by the approach of squabbling voices. Blaine sighed. "Noah and Sam," he explained. "They fight like brothers – or an old married couple, come to think of it."

Sure enough, not a moment later they came through the door in the midst of a verbal spar. "Kurt," Sam said gratefully. "Tell Noah that he's being _stupid_ for saying that people should use stallions in battle. They should ride geldings."

"Stallions _want_ to fight," Noah argued back. "Try getting an animal whose manhood you've chopped off to do anything for you ever again after that."

"At least you can control a gelding," Sam countered. "Unless you'd rather that your own horse killed you before anyone else could. I should know. I _work_ with horses."

"Mares," Kurt interrupted before Noah could retort. "That way you can hope that your opponent is riding a stallion and he'll be too distracted to serve the rider." Sam and Noah looked at each other as if to begin arguing about which of their sides Kurt's argument supported, but Kurt cut them off. "Isn't this a poor time to be arguing about horses?" he asked pointedly

Sam and Noah looked properly abashed. They turned to look at Blaine, who was fiddling awkwardly with a strap on his armor. "What time did he want to duel at?" Sam asked finally.

"Midday," Blaine replied. "I have a few hours."

"Can we stay with you until then?" Noah asked.

Kurt turned to smile at Noah. He was startled and touched by the man's gesture. Things had changed in his absence, surely, but not every change had been for the worse. It wasn't only him and Blaine anymore – the two of them against the world – and Kurt wouldn't have it any other way. The very insanity that they had kept from him yesterday had forged bonds in his wake that were stronger than any argument or event that might try to tear them apart.

"If you like," Blaine said. The nonchalance of his words didn't quite reach the blatant gratefulness in his voice.

* * *

><p>The hours came and went as if they were desperately trying to catch water. Time kept slipping futilely through their fingers the moment they tried to clutch at it more greedily. As if not talking about it would make the imminent duel a non-presence, the boys spoke instead of trivial things.<p>

Kurt asked them about Jameson, Angie's teasing peer, and got their respective dissertations on him, which were all quite opinionated and ultimately enlightening – Kurt found that they had all grown rather protective of Blaine's sister; then again, who wouldn't? Their conversation was tinged with the unspoken: that in a matter of hours, the duel to change their futures would arrive.

Eventually, it was impossible to ignore it any longer. "No one else knows quite what this means," Sam mused. The men had moved outside and were lounging around in the garden. "No one but us, that is. To everyone else…it's just a regular challenge."

"Obviously," Noah countered. "If they knew, we'd be ruined."

"I'm just thinking aloud," Sam said. "Don't you think it's strange? Keeping such a big secret right in front of everybody's noses?"

Kurt's stomach jumped and he looked up, startled. Blue eyes traveled to Blaine, who was staring steadfastly at his own shoes, and then to Noah, who was looking at Kurt inquisitively. Kurt's shifting gaze continued toward Sam, who was lying on his back with his face trained to the sky. His gaze was impassive and Kurt couldn't tell what his intention had been in saying such a thing.

"Strange," Blaine murmured, deadpan. "Is it, though?" Kurt narrowed his gaze in warning but Blaine didn't turn to look at him.

"We needn't worry about it so much," Kurt said without confidence in his words. "Even if…things don't go according to plan, we'll have years to re-bolster peoples' opinions."

None of the other men said anything. Their silence spoke of disbelief, which didn't surprise Kurt. He had been speaking mainly for Blaine's benefit. As the hour grew closer to noon, Blaine had grown less composed. With every deduction from his confidence, he grew more sullen and emotionless. Kurt, by contrast, grew increasingly emotional.

"It's noon," Blaine commented, looking up at the sun. "We should go." He stood off the bench and began to walk away without looking back.

"Why is he acting like this?" Kurt hissed to Noah and Sam as they started after Blaine. "He's making out as if he's already lost."

Noah shook his head, looking unsettled. "He shouldn't be. He should be confident."

"Perhaps it's everything that's on his shoulders," Sam suggested. "He might be overwhelmed."

"He should forget all of that," Kurt said. "None of it is of any import if he gets himself killed for dragging his feet when he should be at attention. David won't accommodate for anything of the sort…I don't know _what_ David will do." Kurt sighed. He didn't have confidence in the rules of the duel. First blood didn't seem like something his cousin was satisfied with on a larger whole; Kurt found himself expecting that he wouldn't abide by it on a smaller scale either.

Such thoughts swirling in his head, Kurt was filled increasingly with an upwelling of emotions. A part of him still wanted to be cross with Blaine, but considering the circumstances he couldn't muster it. Guilt nagged at him, the same guilt that had overcome him on his first night back in Lima a mere few days ago. He wanted to be able to help Blaine but he didn't know what to say. He wanted to ask him what had started going through his head in the last few hours, but he knew that Blaine would never give him a truthful answer.

As Kurt saw it, only one person could get Blaine into the frame of mind that he needed to be in, and that person wasn't him. He looked to Noah pleadingly. "Say something to him," Kurt suggested as they neared the dueling arena. "Boost his morals, give him dueling advice."

"_Me_ give _him_ advice on fighting?" Noah asked uncertainly. "I don't have anything to say that he doesn't already know."

"Then tell him what he already knows," Kurt whispered. "I can't help him. I'm not a knight. Nothing I can say will aid him in this."

Noah looked at Kurt meaningfully. "Are you sure?" he asked. Sam looked from Noah to Kurt questioningly, eyes narrowed.

Kurt shook his head shortly. "Nothing I can say will aid him in any way that matters," he amended.

"I beg to differ," Noah said. He broke into a jog to reach Blaine's side, where he swung an arm around his shoulders and lowered his head conspiratorially.

"What was that?" Sam asked, looking after Noah. "He was certainly acting strange."

"We're all acting strange," Kurt said evasively. "How could we not be?"

"Reminds me of something."

"Hmm?"

Sam looked at Kurt from the corner of his eye. "We were outside Vilnius. You remember. We were worried then, too."

Kurt scoffed and shook his head. "This is different – so different that I don't know how you dare compare them at all."

"You're right," Sam acquiesced. "You seem better now. You're still worried about him, I know that. You're worried the same as you were back then. You don't seem to be worried _by_ that worry though…if you know what I mean."

Kurt looked straight ahead. "I do," he whispered. "I do know what you mean."

"Then of course," Sam continued, "there's something comforting about facing what you don't know. I know that people always say the opposite, but I disagree. When you're facing what you don't know, you can hold on to countless stores of hope. When you're facing what you know…when you know your foe so precisely...you know just how much hope you can afford to give."

"Why are you saying that?" Kurt whispered in defeat. "They're strong in different ways. Are you intent on demoralization, Sam?"

"Quite the opposite," he said. He reached out and squeezed Kurt's shoulder reassuringly. "One more thing is different now than it was then."

"Just one?" Kurt asked sarcastically. Sam chose to ignore him. He pressed his lips together in a smile, raised his eyebrows, and looked at the path they were following.

"What's the one thing?" Kurt asked suspiciously. "Sam, what's the one thing?" He shoved his friend's shoulder, but Sam didn't answer. His peaceful smile was still situated on his lips, and he had shoved his hands into the pockets of his breeches.

Kurt surveyed Sam curiously. His hands left Sam's shoulder and he turned to face straight ahead. Sounds from all around him seemed to cease, so that he was trapped in a perfect, soundproof bubble where silence rang in his ears and time seemed to move at half the speed of everything outside. Kurt felt like he was walking outside of his body; his feet moved on their own toward the dueling arena.

"The one thing," he said quietly. "How long have you known?"

Sam, like Kurt, looked straight ahead. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said quietly.

"Since Vilnius," Kurt answered for him. "I practically told you then and there, but since I didn't know what it was myself, I didn't expect anyone else to either. Then we fought about it before I left."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam repeated.

"God, this is awful," Kurt moaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "Every day I find out that one less person is ignorant. Am I _that_ blatant? If you know and if Noah does…who _else_? I'm trying to stay hopeful, Sam, really. It isn't easy when you're trying to balance heart and logic. Those are two foes who never should have been allowed to war inside a poor human body. I'm afraid that the former has been winning out far more than the latter of late. I used to pride myself on keeping a logical head during…everything."

"You are logical," Sam told him. "You're more even-headed than the best of us, Kurt. Do you think that we would have been trying to make a revolution work in your indefinite absence if we didn't hope that somehow, you would find a way out alive? We hardly should have dared to hope."

"That says nothing in support of my logic."

"Sure it does," Sam said. "You're too close to the source…too blinded to see it now. You have to step back from yourself. If you did, you'd be much less hard on yourself. You're right: you almost told me. That's how I knew. That and I know _you_. Try for optimism. You're much nobler than you give yourself credit for."

Kurt blinked in surprise. "Don't bother with a prelude."

Sam smiled wryly. "I didn't think you'd appreciate one."

In spite of himself, Kurt felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. "Quite right," he whispered.

"About what Noah said," Sam continued. "You can't really think that you don't have anything to say to Blaine that will help him."

Kurt shrugged. The dueling arena had come into view, making his heart race upon sight of it. As usual, covered and uncovered stands were situated around a large flat area. They converted the same space for many types of competitions. Today, a mat had been laid out on the dirt as was appropriate for one-on-one combat. The mat sat in front of raised wooden seats; the walls surrounding them were plastered with flags and banners. Lower seats ran out along the arena for non-nobles who wished to watch. Usually they were minimally occupied. Now they were packed shoulder to shoulder.

"Sam," Kurt said, reaching out and taking his friend's arm. Sam's words had passed by the wayside. "What on Earth is going on here? All of these people…what are they doing?" He turned to look at Sam, but the other man looked just as bewildered as he felt.

"I have no idea," Sam said. "They don't usually turn out en masse. I wonder how word even got out, since the challenge was only set yesterday."

"Servants with loose tongues," Kurt hissed, overcome with a sudden wave of malice. Brief rage boiled in his veins, and for a moment he wished he could harm whoever had spread the word. The last thing he wanted was an audience to the event, no matter its outcome.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. Kurt's rage dissipated and he realized what he had said. "Oh Sam," he said. "I…I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. I've been feeling it built up…the littlest thing could have caused me to explode." He ducked his head.

"Believe it or not," Sam said, nudging Kurt's shoulder. "I do know how it feels." Kurt looked at him curiously but Sam didn't detail his meaning. "We should keep going."

Noah and Blaine had gone into one of the competition tents. There were two erected, and they sat at opposite ends of the arena. David would be in the other one, Kurt knew. He wondered if his cousin had people around, or if he needed someone to talk to him like Noah had spoken to Blaine.

He stole a glance at the nobles' raised seats before entering. Santana sat in the queen's chair – it was Kurt's first time seeing her as Queen of Algania, and she sat erect and proud, chin tilted upward as she surveyed her surroundings. David's chair sat empty at her right, and Vivienne sat to her left. Kurt spotted two empty seats beside Finn, presumably for him and Noah. Just as he was about to enter the tent, his father caught his gaze. They looked silently at one another for a moment before his father gave him a subdued smile and a nod. Kurt returned the gesture and entered Blaine's tent with Sam.

Blaine had a smile for him when he entered, which lifted some of the worry off of Kurt's heart. However, they hadn't even said their first words before a footman came in after them.

"Sir Blaine, the king will be awaiting your presence in five minutes." He bowed and exited.

Kurt let out a sigh of disbelief. "He certainly doesn't want to waste time," he said. His hands clenched and unclenched nervously.

"I'm glad," Blaine said. Sam had begun to help him on with his armor and Noah was sitting on a stool sharpening his sword. The sharp weapon caught Kurt's eye and his suspicion. "I wouldn't want to draw it out any longer."

Noah swore suddenly, and the sword sharpener dropped from between his legs. "Damn thing," he said, looking up. "I'll have to run and get a new one quickly. Sam, where are they kept?"

"You know where," Sam said distractedly as he strapped armor onto Blaine's shins. "They're in the same place they've always been. I need to get the rest of this armor on."

"I wish you'd show me," Noah pressed. "We don't have much time and I don't want to wander about looking." He gave Sam a meaningful look.

Kurt felt his cheeks fill with color and he had to look away from them. "I can finish with the armor," he muttered. "I'd be glad to be of at least a little use."

"Oh," Sam said as realization dawned on him. He dropped his hands to his sides. "Er…right then. Follow me." He looked back at Blaine. "We'll be back to wish you luck before…I mean…when we fetch what we need." Noah shoved his shoulder and they exited in the midst of a small tussle.

Blaine picked up the sword and ran his finger along the edge. "Sharpened to perfection," he whispered. "I should have known."

Kurt picked up the chest piece and situated it on Blaine. He worried his bottom lip as his trembling fingers struggled with the straps. "Penny for your thoughts?" Blaine beseeched him quietly.

"I like to think they're worth a little more than that," Kurt said before he could stop himself. Once the words were gone from him, he shook his head tiredly. "I apologize. I seem to be apologizing a lot today. I was just thinking about…this and that."

"Right," Blaine said, wringing his hands together. They fell into a silence as Kurt continued to fasten Blaine's armor.

"That about does it," Kurt said, standing back and looking Blaine over. Scan done, blue eyes traveled up to amber. "I…I want to say something but I can't seem to find the right thing to tell you."

"Sometimes words just don't work for a situation," Blaine agreed. He lifted a hand, and Kurt was quick to extend his own. Their fingers twined together and Blaine ran his thumb across the back of Kurt's hand. "This is all so wrong. We should be celebrating your safe return with a week of festivals or something. I guess it's my own fault."

"I guess it is," Kurt agreed.

"Are you still quite miffed at me for not telling you straight away about…what we mean to do?"

Kurt considered quietly for a moment. Finally, he brought Blaine's hand upward until his lips almost touched his skin. He shook his head ever so slightly. "No," he whispered. He pressed his lips to the back of Blaine's hand. "Do you remember the first time I did this?" He pressed his lips to Blaine's hand again. "I said that nothing will happen." Again. "I said that I didn't know what would become of me if you didn't come back alive." Again. "I said that if you die, I die." He pressed his lips to Blaine's skin one last time, and lingered there until Blaine shifted. Blaine's hand turned to caress the side of Kurt's face, and Kurt leaned into his touch. "So don't die, alright?"

"I don't know why you're saying that," Blaine said. "It's just a duel. First blood, remember? It isn't such a big thing."

"Of course not," Kurt agreed. "Of course." He swiped self-consciously at a tear that escaped the corner of his eye. "Damn." He cleared his throat. "Why was Noah sharpening your real sword? Don't you usually use rebated swords in tournaments?"

"In tournaments, yes," Blaine shrugged. "I've never been challenged to a duel of honor before. The king wanted real combat." Kurt let out a pent up breath and closed his eyes. Tears of frustration slipped down his face.

Blaine's hand traveled from the side of Kurt's face to the back of his neck, and Kurt didn't resist as Blaine pulled him closer. When their lips met, Kurt could taste the salt from the tears that had started unbidden. Kurt's hand rose to the side of Blaine's face and he kissed him desperately, feverishly.

"A-Angie said something," Kurt said, breaking away ever so slightly.

Blaine lingered close to Kurt's mouth and kissed his bottom lip once before speaking. "I wish you wouldn't talk about my little sister right now," he said breathily.

"It's important," Kurt said. He didn't take his hands off Blaine, even though the armor prevented them from getting close. He leaned in to kiss him softly. "You wouldn't have heard it before I think. When she told it to me, I thought it was the worst thing in the world. Now, no more than a day later, I think differently. I suppose it's true, in a way."

"What is it?" Blaine murmured against his lips.

"Let it not dishearten you," Kurt said as a disclaimer. "She said she's heard things about you being the knight to my queen."

Blaine let out a weary sigh and turned his head. "She's too young to be carrying the weight of other peoples' words."

"I'm not done," Kurt said quickly. "I think it's customary for a knight to wear a queen's favor before he duels. Now, whoever has been saying such things obviously needs a fundamental lesson in gender and anatomy, but they were right about one thing."

"Were they?"

"You're my knight, aren't you?" Kurt asked, tracing the contour of Blaine's jaw. "You could take something of mine, for luck." He wasn't wearing anything except for a chain around his neck. Kurt had his ring on when he was taken. At the Raju camp, he'd begged Kova for a chain on which to hang the ring around his neck so he wouldn't lose it. He hadn't taken it off since, even after he'd been home. "You're not wearing your ring."

"It isn't exactly practical for dueling," Blaine said, leaning in to brush his lips against Kurt's cheek. "All I need is for you to be in the audience so I can look up at you and know what future I'm fighting for."

Kurt smiled and lifted the chain over his head. "You're sweet," he whispered. "Wear this, too? It'll be my favor."

He didn't wait for a reply before putting the chain over Blaine's head and sliding the ring in between his shirt and chainmail. "Thank you," Blaine said. He lifted his hand and ran it through the hairs at the base of Kurt's neck before tipping his head back to kiss him once more.

They heard loud voices approaching before anyone came into the tent. When Noah and Sam finally entered, Kurt had already sprung away from Blaine and grabbed his helmet. He shot a grateful look at the two men.

"Look at that, I didn't even need this," Noah said upon re-examining the sword. "Figures." They all suppressed smiles and avoided eye contact.

"Thank you, both of you," Blaine said. He took the helmet from Kurt and put it on his head. "Now is the time, I think."

"After you," Noah said, pulling back the tent flap.

"Good luck, Blaine," said both Sam and Noah in turn. Kurt didn't say anything else. He didn't have to.

When they exited, Sam left Noah and Kurt to sit next to Mercedes on the lower seats. Kurt and Noah climbed the stairs to the nobles' seating and took their places next to Finn.

"How is he doing?" Finn asked quietly. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you."

"It's fine," Noah said, waving off his apology. "He's good, I think. We'll see, won't we?"

"It should be an entertaining fight," Santana said loudly, looking toward them. "I would say they'll be evenly matched for a while, though I expect that strength will conquer, in the end." She smiled slyly. "I don't believe I've said it yet, but welcome back, Kurt."

"How kind of you," Kurt said tightly, nodding once and then looking forward again. It looked like David wasn't the only one who had monarchy going to his head.

"Kurt," Finn whispered, nudging Kurt's arm. "What are they carrying? Those are their real swords!"

"Exactly what I said," Kurt whispered back. He looked at Noah, who had leaned closer to hear what they were talking about. "Do tell, Noah."

He shook his head. "David called me last night with a list of rules they were to duel by," he whispered. "Not using rebated swords was one of them."

"What on Earth would possess him to do that?" Kurt whispered heatedly, looking out at the arena. Blaine and David had approached each other and were speaking a quick word. "This is _so_ dangerous, and dueling is already dangerous enough."

"I couldn't exactly argue with him about it," Noah said. "One of us needs to stay on his good side before he realizes that we're all dispensable, and Blaine isn't doing a very good job of it."

"I'm just anxious for this nightmare to be over," Kurt answered, leaning back in his chair. "What's taking them so long?" The moment he finished speaking, David stepped backward. Both he and Blaine bent at the waist until they were inclined the very minimum amount for a proper bow. They assumed their start positions.

"Gentlemen," Duke Burton's voice rang through the arena from where he stood at the front of the box of seats. "A challenge has been issued to be carried out on this day. As two of Algania's knights, you are no doubt acquainted with the rules of the duel. It is to be fought with one-handed swords and battle garb appropriate for one-on-one combat. The challenge will end with either the drawing of first blood _or_ the vocal forfeit of one knight to the other. A breach in the code of conduct will disqualify you from competition and render the other man the winner. On your marks, gentlemen…duel!"

Kurt sat forward in his seat as Blaine and David began to move around each other like prowling lions. David looked twice as big as Blaine, which made Kurt's heart race nervously. However, David had more of himself to carry around, so he would tire first. Blaine, by contrast, was compact and would last longer than the bigger man. Kurt smiled to himself as Blaine patiently kept pace with David's circle, not allowing him to get to one side.

"What is he doing? Finn whispered in Kurt's ear. "Nothing's happening."

"I was in knight training long enough to know this and that," Kurt answered, leaning toward Finn so his voice wouldn't carry to anyone else. "Making the first move is a huge disadvantage. You want to parry your opponent's first blow. That's especially true for Blaine because he's so much smaller than David. That _also_ means he's faster, so he can dodge the attacks and play defensively until he tires David out and he starts to get sloppy."

"I see," Finn murmured. "This is the disadvantage of growing up in town, I think. I don't know any of these tricks."

"They're easy enough to pick up on," Kurt responded, eyes still on the two men. "I'll explain if you want." David lunged forward finally, breaking the tense pacing. He swung his sword high over his head and brought it down in a sideways arc. The crowd gasped at the sudden movement. In a blur of quick motion, Blaine brought up his sword hand and parried the blow, making evasion look easy. Kurt beamed down at him. It was a promising start.

The deflection didn't dissuade David, who brought his sword onto Blaine again and again. With quick footwork, Blaine scurried around, dodging each blow easily. They broke apart again and surveyed each other. This time, Blaine was the first one to move. With swift feet, he moved in and swung backhanded at a low angle. David side-stepped the blow just a bit too slowly, and Blaine's sword clanged off of his armor.

Blaine's momentum kept him moving past Dave, who spun around looking for him. Blaine dodged in again several more times. After a few passes, he slapped the fuller of his sword against David's armor almost mockingly.

Kurt couldn't help rolling his eyes despite his distress. "Was that bad?" Finn asked frantically. "Blaine looks like he's doing well."

"He's getting cocky," Noah said. "Slapping the blade like that…it's just disgraceful for the other knight. It will only make the king mad."

Noah was right. David swung his sword on Blaine with a second wind and a new fury. He hammered down blows upon him with such swiftness that Blaine couldn't get in an attack of his own between all of the parrying. With a clash of metal, their swords caught at the hilt, bringing the two knights chest to chest.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he brought a hand to his mouth. He felt Finn reach behind him to nudge Noah, but he didn't turn around.

"It's a bad position for the smaller fighter," Noah whispered to Finn behind him. "Close up like that, strength always wins out."

"Can you _shut up_?" Kurt hissed quietly. David bore his weight down on Blaine. Kurt knew that Blaine couldn't fight back and he couldn't risk breaking away. The force David was putting on their combined swords would crash down on him if he tried to untangle his own sword. Slowly, David forced Blaine down to his knees and loomed over him. Helmets prevented the spectators from seeing if the knights' lips were moving, but Kurt was willing to bet that David was whispering taunts at him for demoralization.

"Oh God," Kurt whispered. His hands started to shake. He balled them into fists but it didn't stop his shaking. Finn reached out and took one of his hands comfortingly. Kurt shot him a glance of thanks but he couldn't open his mouth to speak.

Just when Kurt thought that Blaine would call for a forfeit, he did the last thing anyone expected. Blaine collapsed backward, cast his sword off a few feet to his side, landed on his back, and somehow manipulated his momentum into a backward roll that had him on his feet in the matter of a second. Kurt let out a gasp – he had never seen anything like it – and people from every level of seating let out screams and cheers.

Crouching, and using David's offset weight and surprise to his advantage, Blaine moved toward his sword. He grabbed it as he ran, circled toward David's back, planted his foot at the small of the king's back, and kicked. Still offset, his recovery time impeded by his heavy armor, David fell forward hard onto his front. His helmet rolled away, leaving his head and neck exposed.

"Can he do that?" Finn shouted to Kurt amongst the cheers.

"One-on-one combat allows for fighting with swords," Kurt answered. "They can do anything that doesn't involve a horse, a shield, or hidden weapons." He let out a whistle in support of Blaine.

David fumbled to his feet clumsily. His face was beet red to the point that it verged on purple and his chest heaved. Blaine didn't take advantage of David's weakness, but instead hung back and let him recover. He reached for the rim of his own helmet and cast it aside, leveling the playing field once more. His ebony curls stuck to his forehead and blossoms of color showed on the apples of his cheeks.

He waited until David attacked him. When their swords clanged together, Blaine winced, sending a shoot of worry through Kurt. The fight carried on evenly for what felt like ages. One moment, Kurt was certain that Blaine would emerge victorious, and in the next he was biting his nails and squeezing Finn's hand for silent support. Adrenaline was making him anxious and twitchy.

David was starting to lumber, which was a good sign for Blaine. They had been fighting for nearly half an hour and the summer sun shone down on them, making them sweat and sapping their energy. Blaine pushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, which gave David an opportunity to lunge in while Blaine was unguarded. Blaine twisted to the side and overcorrected the offset of his weight. His feet stumbled and he crashed to the ground in a loud clatter of armor.

The crowd gasped and let out cries of concern. The fact that they had consistently cheered harder for Blaine hadn't escaped Kurt, and he doubted that it has escaped anyone else either. The gasps turned to cries of outrage as David held his sword hilt with both hands. He stood over Blaine, who lay wheezing on the ground. Sword point angled to the mat below them, he lifted his arms high as if he would bring it down into Blaine's chest. His face was taken up with a large snarl and he let out a cry as he tensed his muscles to bring the sword down.

Kurt opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound came from him. David's moves seemed to happen in slow motion. Kurt was overcome with a wild urge to jump into the arena and stop it but he would never reach them in time. Blaine would die. The thought came suddenly and starkly to his mind. David would send that sharpened sword plunging into Blaine's chest. He would stop breathing and his limbs would go limp. His head would fall back. A trickle of the blood would escape the corner of his mouth as his head rolled to the side to look futilely for Kurt amongst the crowd of outraged observers. His eyes would halt in their search. Blood would still gush from his wound. He would die with eyes wide open, still looking for Kurt as he had been with his last breath. Kurt wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

The slow motion world snapped back to real time when Blaine moved suddenly. His leg swept out under him in a wide arc. He hit David's legs just as the sword started on its downward journey. Legs gone from underneath him, David fell to the ground on his side.

The sudden reversal of situations saw the audience babbling loudly, pointing at the two knights. Blaine rolled to the side and got to his feet. He grabbed his sword and stepped toward David, who was still on the ground, his sword several feet away. Blaine used his foot to shove David onto his back and he planted his foot on the king's chest.

"Forfeit!" he called loudly. "Forfeit, now!"

Kurt had brought his hand to his face as if to hide his view but he peeked from in between his fingers. His breathing was coming shallowly. His heart hammered in his chest and he closed his eyes briefly in thanks. This was the end. David would surrender or Blaine would nick his skin, ending the duel; both would mean Blaine's victory.

Blaine leveled his sword an inch away from the exposed skin at the joint of two pieces of armor at David's shoulder. "Do you call forfeit?"

"Fine," David snarled, face contorted. "Yes. Yes, I call forfeit. Now get your dirty, common foot off of me." He lifted a hand and shoved Blaine's foot away.

Blaine lowered his sword arm. Absolute quiet had fallen over the arena. He stepped away from David and looked out at the crowd, where not one person made a noise. Kurt imagined that they were all thinking the same thing that he was. Their king had just been defeated by one of his knights and was lying in the dirt after clearly breaking the rules of the duel. No one dared to cheer for Blaine, no matter who they may have rooted for during the fight.

Blaine picked up his discarded helmet. With everyone watching, he lowered his head and began to walk back to his tent. Their eyes followed his retreating frame, David temporarily forgotten. Kurt's attention was drawn back to his cousin when the glint of the sun reflected off of his sword as he took it back into his hand. When he finally looked at David fully, his cousin had already started to run toward Blaine at full tilt.

"_No_," Kurt screamed out the word, prolonging the last vowel and drawing everyone's attention back to David, who advanced upon Blaine undeterred. "Blaine, look out!"

At the sound of Kurt's voice echoing through the arena, Blaine spun around toward the crowd. David let out a cry as he neared Blaine, sword raised over his head. Blaine stared at the king in shock for a moment, frozen to the spot. His face was a mask of surprise, his arms still lowered.

People had begun screaming all over again, and Kurt heard the distinct sound of a sob coming from the lower levels of seats. Blaine sprung to action just in time, moving toward the seats and allowing David, blinded by fury, to swing past and miss him. He didn't take long to recover, and quickly swung again.

Blaine, caught off guard and hands full, backed up to avoid the blows. They were approaching the nearest ground level seats, which were guarded from the arena by a low wall. Blaine backed into the short wall, David still advancing upon him. Kurt could feel himself screaming still, but amongst the other cries the sound of it was lost. He pushed his way through the nobles on his level of seats until he was at the front, practically hanging over the side in his haste to be next to Blaine.

The knight was ten feet below him and thoroughly out of reach. Dozens of hands reached out, fingers finding places in the grooves of Blaine's armor. Kurt realized that people were combining strength in an effort to pull Blaine over the low wall to safety on the other side. He wanted to be there, between Blaine and David. Though he was only ten feet away, it might as well have been one hundred.

The entire turn of events had taken place rapidly, no more than ten seconds ago. It had been ten seconds of absolute chaos and panic. People's efforts to pull Blaine over the wooden barrier were too slow to counter David's approach.

David drew back his sword arm, point facing Blaine. His face was unrecognizable and his mouth opened in a war cry lost amidst other shrieks. Kurt screamed again, hands reaching out over the side of the raised seats toward Blaine, whose gaze was one of horror as he watched the sword point's true aim approaching him.

The sword struck home just below Blaine's chest plate, near his lower stomach. The reality of the scene before him was more horrific than Kurt possibly could have imagined. Blaine's head tilted up toward the sky and he let out a gut-wrenching, inhuman scream as David sunk his sword ever farther into Blaine's flesh. The people around Blaine had stopped trying to lift him upward. Due to his position against the wall and the force behind David's blow, the sword bit deep enough to pierce through Blaine and affix him to the wood behind him.

Blood immediately gushed from the wound, coating the sword, which was near to being buried up to the hilt, and David's hands, which were still wrapped around it. The king let go of the sword suddenly and took shaky steps backwards. He looked at his bloodstained hands as if he didn't know who they belonged to.

Like Kurt had envisioned, frothy blood pooled in Blaine's mouth and trickled out at the corner like a macabre fountain. Blood mixed with sweat, making lines of red race down Blaine's neck. The strength to hold up his head gave way. It lolled back limply, rolling left and right without control. Blaine opened and closed his mouth. Gobbets of blood swelled and pushed out of his mouth, coating the lower half of his face with dark scarlet.

Kurt hadn't stopped screaming. He went limp against the side of the seat enclosure with only his outstretched arms keeping his eyes above the top of the wood and fixed on Blaine. The knight had already gone a deathly white but for the blood coating him. The people in the stands had broken into action. Some had jumped over the barrier and were holding Blaine upright so that his limp weight wouldn't be put on the sword. One woman had reached up and was holding his head in a more natural position. Blaine's blood stained her hands and the front of her raggedy peasant dress, and her eyes were filled with tears as she lifted her face to the sky with grief and ran a hand over Blaine's curls motherly.

People screamed for a doctor, and from behind him Kurt heard his father calling frantically for someone to find Medice and bring him. Hands tugged at Kurt but he clung to the wood of the high barrier that held him so far apart from Blaine.

Blaine's amber eyes were glazed over and they rolled around in his head unfocusedly as he looked left and right. His blank gaze dragged across the raised noble seating and Kurt called out his name frantically as tears coursed down his face. His erratic gaze finally caught on Kurt after passing him over several times. Blaine's mouth worked in wordless gasps and chokes. Kurt keened with despair, the sound still but one scream among many. His vision blurred at the edges but the screams left Kurt's mouth without his control. Blackness creeped into his sight and even after it had completely engulfed his vision and submerged him in unconsciousness, the image of Blaine's glazed-over stare and fading life remained imprinted in his mind.

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><p><span>Fun Fact:<span> The amount of research I do for this fic is embarrassing, so I hope that it shows in some way when I'm writing, hahah! The duel shown here is a mix between the really old-fashioned trial by combat, and the slightly later duel of chivalry. I say a mix because while the latter is, in name, the same as what is here, the latter was actually also highly illegal and often carried out secretly in back alleys. By contrast, one-on-one combat to settle a trial was a legitimate justice form at this point in time. I took liberties in the writing of it; for example, shields were actually used so swords weren't damaged by parrying blows, but I wanted to keep the action cut-and-dry, not clogged up by trivial things. Medieval duels were fought _in full armor_, plates and chainmail and everything. This fell out of style by the Renaissance, for obvious reasons.

On a technical note: rebated swords were blunted swords for close-up duels. Tournament duels especially were not fought to the death, so war swords weren't used. The rebated sword was a less lethal weapon used in full-armor combat. The fuller, which Blaine slaps David with, is that indented groove on the blade of the sword. I actually have no idea if this was a thing done but I thought it was a nice, snarky thing do to for Blaine to embarrass David.

My knowledge of sword fights comes almost exclusively from 1) the special place called my mind, 2) watching Troy a million and a half times and being addicted to Merlin, and primarily, 3) reading and rereading and rereading Tamora Pierce books - the scene where Alanna is dueling with Roger and cuts through her shirt and bindings...~FEELINGS~. You actually all have Tamora to thank for me being interested in medieval feudal knighthood, thus the writing of this fic. THREE CHEERS.

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><p><em>AN: To be continued!_

_Holy shiiet, that's that! That was an absolute horror to write - I was thoroughly shaken when I finished with it. Phew. This chapter is obviously COMPLETELY different than any other chapter of PC so I am positively jumping at the bit to know what you guys thought of it! Please review and let me know what you thought of it - good, bad, crying, curled up in a miserable ball of angst (like me!), anything! _

_Thanks so much for reading! :3 _


	25. Chapter 25 :: A Study In Scarlet

_A/N: Phew, I don't think I anticipated the reactions that followed the publishing of the last chapter! For all the people that said they cried - especially the poor, slightly drunk anon! - uh...sorry? Emotions are a good thing; they keep up on our toes, haha!_

_Without further ado, enjoy! _

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><p><em>Early Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

Kurt woke up in his bed, head pounding. For a moment, he thought it was several years ago and he was waking up at midday after a party the night before. His eyes fluttered open and he realized this wasn't the case. His curtains were open and beyond its panes gaped the blackness of night. He stirred on his sheets, trying to sit up. A hand gripped his elbow, steadying him. Sam was at his side looking at him with concern.

"Sammy?" asked Kurt, touching his fingers to his temple. "Ugh, where am I? I mean…no." Kurt's face screwed up in confusion as he saw Noah in a nearby chair. "What are you both…what…?" Kurt's voice faded as memories flooded back. His face must have given something away, because by the time he had processed reality, Sam was holding him back by his shoulders as he struggled to get up.

"Kurt, calm down, _please_," pleaded Sam. "You hurt your head when you blacked out. You need to stay put."

"Let go of me," Kurt strained. He reached up and felt a gauzy head bandage. He bunched it into his fist, ripped it off of his head, and threw it to the ground.

"Kurt," Noah started, standing up. Kurt was legitimately fighting against Sam, shoving his hands away and slowly squirming closer to the edge of his bed as Sam attempted to cling to him. "Sam, stop. Let him go. He'll only hurt himself more if he's fighting against you."

With a grumble, Sam released him. Kurt sprung to his feet, head spinning, and stumbled to the door. He tried to get a grip on the door handle but his vision was working in twos and threes.

"Look at him," Sam said. "He has a concussion. Kurt, you shouldn't be –"

"Don't touch me," Kurt warned in advance as they approached.

"At least let us help you," Noah said, pulling Kurt's arm over his shoulders. "God, you're a wreck."

Kurt wanted to punch Noah in the face. Had what happened to Blaine been a dream? Was he the only one who remembered? Noah was acting almost normal, and if he really cared about Blaine, how could he dare to do that?

"Blaine," Kurt said, voice cracking. No more tears escaped, as if he had already given them all. "Oh God, Blaine. Is he d…is he d-d…" Kurt couldn't finish the sentence, but both of the other men knew what he meant.

"No," Sam said quietly. "Kurt, we wanted to tell you this while you were sitting."

"I won't sit," Kurt said, making his way down the hall with Noah's help. He was headed toward Blaine's rooms. "I won't sit. I won't sit."

"Alright," Sam said hastily. "Kurt…he isn't good. He really isn't good." Sam's voice trembled and he put his hand over his mouth to stop its wavering and to collect himself. He finally removed his hand and took a deep breath. "It's about midnight now. Medice's been with him since…since it happened. He says that if Blaine's wounds clot and stop bleeding soon and he makes it through the next few days, he'll live."

Kurt was shaking his head vehemently. "No. No. No."

"Kurt – stop," Sam said in distress. Kurt could hear the tears in his voice but he didn't care. Sam had no right to cry. Sam didn't know how he felt. _No one_ knew how he felt. "Kurt, _yes_, stop it. God knows that I hate to say this but…you have to prepare yourself for the worst."

"No," Kurt said quickly. His voice rose. "No. _No_. Shut _up_. Blaine can't die. Not Blaine. He can't, alright? He just can't, so stop talking as if he already has."

Sam quieted and shook his head, tears shining in his eyes but not falling down his cheeks. "You're awfully quiet," Kurt snapped at Noah.

"I wish you had been out longer," Noah said, his honesty shocking Kurt into silence. "They told us to watch you until you woke. When they said that, I was…glad. It gave me a chance to not be in there. I hate admitting that. Blaine's room, Kurt," Noah shook his head. "It isn't a place you want to be."

Kurt's mouth pulled downwards at the corners as Noah finished speaking. They stopped outside of Blaine's door and Noah took him by the shoulders. "You're scared as hell, Kurt. I get it, believe me. We all love Blaine. We all get it. If you go in there, you have to keep it together. Don't say anything to compromise yourself, _please_. Blaine wouldn't want that, and since he can't tell you that I have to in his place. Keep it together…and prepare yourself."

Kurt shook Noah's hands off. Now that he had calmed down, the broken, despairing looks on both Sam and Noah's faces made guilt tear through him. "Thank you," he whispered, hand on the door. "Both of you."

"Lead the way," Sam said. Kurt pushed open the door.

He opened the door slowly. He had expected the antechamber to be deserted, but it wasn't. Angelica sat in a plush chair pushed to the side of the room, crying unabashedly on the shoulder of a boy slightly older than her who was looking thoroughly uncomfortable as he patted her shoulder consolingly.

Angelica looked up at the sound of the door. Frantic eyes lit on him and Kurt felt his heart tighten. Her eyes were drops of emerald green on a pink backdrop of bloodshot whites. Kurt thought ironically that crying blood wasn't so far off. Blaine's sister drew a gasping, shaky breath and launched herself off of her younger comforter's shoulder and into Kurt's outstretched arms.

He held her tightly as her small fists balled up in the fabric of his shirt and she pressed the side of her face against his chest. Kurt's hands shook as he stroked Angelica's hair quietly. For a long moment everyone stood in suspended animation: the boy looking uncomfortable, Noah and Sam with pained faces, Kurt's heart beating like a hummingbird's wings in his chest, and Angelica trying to talk through the haze of choked sobs that prevented her from forming speech.

"Hush," Kurt instructed, pulling away and rubbing away her tears with his thumb. "Were you there?"

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. Kurt knew what she was trying to do, and he also knew it wouldn't work. He wished that closing his eyes banished the image but he almost saw it more clearly. Blaine lived on the inside of his eyelids, stuck through, face turned toward the noontime sun. He had seen from the moment he met her that Angelica revered her brother as her hero. He wished that she didn't have to carry around that image forever. He wished that her childhood could have lasted just a bit longer.

"T-they won't let me in," she stuttered finally, voice hiccoughing between sobs. "I don't think I want to go in." A few more tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "P-please don't let Blaine die, Kurt, please," she pleaded, grabbing his hand. "He would do anything for you. Please…ask him not to die. I'll d-do anything, anything at all. M-my b-brother –" Her voice cracked and cut out. She ducked her head and put a hand over her mouth to stifle an involuntary sob.

Kurt's heart felt huge and vulnerable in his chest, and he imagined that anyone could reach out to touch it and it would explode. "It doesn't work like that, love," he whispered, voice weak. She didn't say anything, but turned away from him slightly.

A door to the left opened. Kurt knew that it opened into a hall that led to Blaine's bedchamber. A man he didn't recognize stepped out. He was tall with just a faint grey streak in his dark hair and a stern brow.

"No," he said immediately when he saw the group. "No one is allowed here but family. Who are you?"

Kurt's brow drew together. "Who are _you_?" Noah retorted. "We're knights of Algania, and friends of Blaine." Sam glanced at him but didn't say anything. "And _this_ is Prince Kurt."

The man's face shifted. "Apologies," he said, the words strained and false. "People have been trying to enter – commoners and others." He shook his head. "I don't know how they get to this point. Your Highness," he said to Kurt, bending at the waist. "I'm Laqueus, Healer Medice's apprentice from the village. He called me for assistance."

Kurt's mouth opened but he didn't speak. What would he say? _Is Blaine alright_? It was asinine. He knew that he wasn't alright. He knew it all too well.

"You weren't here earlier," Sam said suspiciously. "We were allowed in with him a few hours ago."

Laqueus turned his eyes to the floor. "He's taken a turn for the worse, I'm afraid," he said quietly.

Kurt's heart jolted. "I have to see him," he said frantically.

Laqueus shook his head. "No one is allowed beyond here."

"Let him pass, Laqueus," said a weary voice from behind the apprentice. He turned, revealing Gemma. Her curls hung limp around her face and her shoulders sagged. "Blaine would want him there."

Laqueus's lips tightened but he didn't argue. He merely inclined his head and walked back down the hall. Kurt turned toward Noah and Sam expectantly.

Noah shook his head. "I can't," he said weakly.

"You should go on alone," Sam said. He took a deep breath. "We'll have plenty of time to see him later."

Kurt hesitated, looking back at Angelica, who had sat down again next to the boy Kurt figured must be Jameson. He appeared genuinely concerned as he watched Angelica, and Kurt decided that they would be in good hands without him.

Gemma reached out and touched his shoulder. Kurt nodded and walked through the door with her. "Don't be startled," Gemma said as they walked down the short hall. "He's half awake, but not lucid."

Kurt nodded again, his heart fluttering. When he stepped into the bedchamber proper, his breath hitched in his throat. The metallic tang of fresh blood hung in the air and Kurt saw several buckets filled with blood soaked rags pushed into a corner of the room. Medice sat in a chair at the head of Blaine's bed, looking weary. Laqueus stood to the side, arms crossed. Kurt tried to ignore the various metallic instruments set out across a white cloth on a nearby table.

Worse than any smell or the shivers that crawled up his spine upon sight of the tools was the image of Blaine himself. He lay on his bed on top of extra linen. His arms and legs were drawn flat and Kurt realized with a start that his wrists and ankles were strapped down to keep him from flailing. He tried nonetheless, straining against the bonds and tossing his head left and right on his pillow. A gauze bandage was wrapped around his upper hips and stomach, and the red stain on it seemed to spread before Kurt's eyes.

Blaine's face was wan, the dark pits of his eyes standing out against the pale of his face. His eyelids fluttered but never opened fully. Sounds ranging from whimpers to small cries escaped him.

Kurt wanted to get closer and to run away at the same time. This couldn't be reality. Blaine, _his Blaine_, couldn't be lying on his bed, dying from a sword wound, writhing like some sick nightmare out of the most dreaded recesses of his mind. He reached out a hand to Gemma to steady himself. Blaine swam in and out of focus in front of him.

"Kurt?" Gemma asked, her voice ringing in his ears. "Oh dear, are you alright? I did hear that you hit your head when you –"

"I'm fine," Kurt said, blinking away his sudden dizziness. "I'm fine. God, look at me. _I'm_ fine. Blaine…oh Blaine…" He stepped hesitantly toward Blaine's bedside and ran a shaking hand through his hair. He walked around to the side opposite of Medice. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched Blaine's bound hand lightly. Blaine made a hoarse choking noise followed by breathless gasps, as if he was having a nightmare. Kurt closed his eyes to regain his composure.

"Your Highness?" asked Medice gently.

"What?" Kurt asked, opening his eyes again. He followed Medice's gaze, which was looking at the hand Kurt had touched. Kurt had moved his hand back to his side, but Blaine's hand strained toward him in spite of the binding preventing its movement. "W-what does that mean? Does he know I'm here?"

"Possibly," Medice said. "He's lost too much blood. That's our major concern right now." He shook his head solemnly. "Stomach wounds…you've been to battle, Prince Kurt. You know what they can do."

"I know," Kurt said, looking at Blaine. He wanted to imagine that if he looked away from the bloodstains Blaine could be sleeping, but the image didn't connect. Blaine's face contorted in pain. His skin wasn't a natural color. He looked frail, and more vulnerable than Kurt had ever seen him. He looked like he was dying. "Give me good news, Medice, please."

"Prince Kurt…"

"Please," Kurt said. "It doesn't matter how small the hope is, just…please. We're…he's my best friend." It wasn't a lie. He turned from Blaine to look at Medice. Doctors wore a certain expression when a patient of theirs wouldn't make it. Kurt refused to acknowledge that look on Medice's face.

"Hope is never totally lost," Medice said. "May I speak openly, Your Highness?"

"Always, Medice," Kurt said, "and call me Kurt, please."

"The blade entered here." Medice pointed to a spot below Blaine's bellybutton and to his right. "There aren't any vital organs in the immediate vicinity. If it had entered here." He pointed to a spot on Blaine's upper left chest. "It might have hit his heart, which would have killed him immediately. Speaking relatively, Your Highness…Kurt…the location of the injury isn't as bad as it might be."

"That's good, isn't it?" Kurt asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple," Medice said. "Initially, before I cleaned him and saw the location of the wound, I thought that the blade had perforated his stomach. That would have accounted for the blood he spat up. But when I cleaned off the external blood, I saw that wasn't the case." Medice drew a finger through the air just higher than Blaine's bellybutton. "See, the stomach ends here, several inches below the ribcage. Blaine's injury is below that, and on the wrong side of the body. That's good news."

"Alright," Kurt said. "So the bleeding stops and he gets better."

Medice looked hesitant. "Perhaps. No place in the torso is a _good_ place to be stabbed, Kurt, and below the stomach and all the way down to the hips are various entrails, any one of which could have been run through, causing internal bleeding," Medice explained.

"But they'll _heal_, won't they?" Kurt asked impatiently.

"If a vital intestine has been pierced through," Medice said, "I'm afraid not. Stomach fluids and other wastes would escape it and fill the abdominal cavity. Once there, they would start to eat away at and infect the other organs. Even if the tear could be sewn up – and that would be his only hope – I wouldn't have any means to keep him alive through the procedure. He's lost too much blood already. Anything I do will risk his death. The external bleeding can be controlled to a certain extent because we can see where it's coming from, but if I make a mistake trying to fix him, I could cause internal bleeding, or make what's already there worse."

Kurt breathed shakily. He thought he could feel different parts of his hearts shattering away, as brittle and fragile as glass. "What do we do?" he asked hopelessly. He heard a muffled sniffle from the corner and glanced at Gemma. She had backed against the far wall and was looking at her son with tears in her eyes and hands clasped over her mouth.

Medice shrugged. "Pray to God," he said. "It might be just low enough, or offset enough, to have missed the entrails. That said, he hasn't stopped bleeding. People bleed out faster than you'd think. Sometimes it takes less than an hour, other times it could take days. We won't know until we come to it. After that, the wound still has to heal. Infection is a ruthless adversary, I'm afraid, especially since we don't know where the blade has been. It's a long path to recovery, and it's narrow and riddled with obstacles."

"Thank you," Kurt said, "for telling the truth." Medice nodded, his eyes fixed once more on Blaine's hand, still reaching out to Kurt. All the while, Blaine hadn't ceased twisting on the linens, and the red stain hadn't stopped growing on his bandages.

"Your Highness," Medice said contemplatively. "Might I ask you something?"

"Kurt," he corrected. "Yes, please."

"You've heard stories, I'm sure," Medice said. "Of men on the battlefield, who have been all but given up for lost and yet somehow make a miraculous discovery. It's always due to something little, like the memory of their family back home, or a stream of encouraging words from a fellow soldier."

Medice's eyes twinkled knowingly. Kurt realized that he must have learned about what he had done for Arthur on the return from Vilnius. He'd known all those years, and never let on. "I've heard them," Kurt said quietly.

"Look at that," Medice said, nodding to Blaine's hand. "He won't stop twisting, and it's making him bleed out faster. If he keeps up at this rate…well, he doesn't have very much time left. I would give him something to make him rest, but until I know the extent of the damage to his insides, I wouldn't trust giving him anything but water. Perhaps if you talk to him, he might listen. It's a long shot, but it almost looks as if he recognized the touch of your hand. You asked what you can do…you can do this."

"Just talk?" Kurt asked nervously, sitting in a straight-backed chair that Laqueus pushed up to him.

"Just talk," Medice confirmed. "We can leave the room for a few minutes if you'd rather."

"No," Kurt said quickly. "No. Stay, please." He didn't want to be alone with Blaine. He wouldn't know what to do if he took a sudden turn for the worse. Gingerly, he scooted the chair closer to Blaine and leaned over his writhing form.

"B-Blaine?" Kurt started. "It's me…Kurt. It's Kurt." Hesitantly, he reached out and took Blaine's hand. He looked up to Medice questioningly, and the old man nodded. "You're hurt. Well, you know that of course. You were really, stupidly brave about the whole thing. But then, I suppose that you've always been stupidly brave about everything for as long as I can remember. Y-you remember on the way to Lithuania? That sword that got under your armor and cut from under your arm all the way across your back? We talked about it when…no…" Kurt shook his head. They hadn't actually talked about it. That had been part of his dream. "W-well, I was scared to death then, out on the battlefield. This is…considerably worse." He cleared his throat, trying not to choke up. "I wish I could have been there to save you this time, too. I guess we can never be there when we most want to, either of us."

He stopped talking at the touch of a hand to his shoulder. Laqueus stood behind him, eyes on Blaine. With a surge of hope, Kurt realized that Blaine had stopped moving around. He still made choked noises and whimpers. His eyelids still fluttered and his eyes zoomed back and forth under his lids frantically, but he no longer thrashed. Kurt looked down at their hands to see that Blaine had taken a loose grip on his hand. While he had been talking, he hadn't even noticed.

"Look," Kurt said, looking up at Medice eagerly. "Look, that's good! That's good, isn't it?"

"As good as can be expected," Medice said with a small smile. "Every journey starts with a single step."

Kurt slowly turned to look back to Blaine. "You hear that?" he asked quietly. "It's the first step on your recovery journey." Kurt suddenly remembered what Angelica had said to him. "Angie's worried about you, Blaine – _really_ worried. She asked me…well, she said that she thought you'd do anything for me, so she begged me to ask you not to die." Kurt smiled sadly. He was glad that Angelica wasn't allowed in Blaine's room. He didn't think the sight of Blaine was much consolation. "If not just for me, you have to heal for Angie…for your mother…everybody."

Kurt lapsed into silence. For long moments, he simply looked at Blaine and periodically stroked the back of his hand gently. It was the only place on Blaine that Kurt dared to touch for fear of breaking him.

"You can go if you wish, Your Highness," said Laqueus. "We'll inform you if anything changes."

"No, thank you," Kurt said. "I want to stay. I have to stay." They fell into silence again. There was nothing more to be said.

* * *

><p>Kurt woke with a jolt. He looked around, vision blurry. "W-where am I?" he asked, sitting up. His neck could hardly move for stiffness and he had a painful kink in his back, reminding him that he was still in Blaine's bedchamber. His knock to the head was playing with his mind and making things fuzzy and confusing. "Oh Lord," Kurt said through gritted teeth. "Ow. Ah…how long was I asleep?"<p>

"Only a few hours," said Medice. When Kurt had fallen asleep it had been only Laqueus looking after Blaine, so he had been asleep long enough for them to switch watch. "I was hesitant to wake you." He nodded to Kurt's hand, which was still interlocked with Blaine's. "It seems like you're a suitable natural sedative. It's an hour or so past daybreak now."

"Thank you," Kurt said, "I didn't want to leave. My neck isn't thanking me for it though." He rolled his head around several times, trying to stretch out the sore, kinked muscles. As much as could be expected, he had enjoyed sitting with Blaine. After the first visitor had tried and almost failed to gain admittance to see Blaine – Queen Vivienne – Kurt had given Laqueus a fierce glare. The apprentice had grudgingly amended his no-admittance rule to allow set numbers in to see Blaine. Starting with Vivienne, a small procession trickled in and out all night, showing Kurt just how many people truly cared about Blaine.

"Take an hour," Medice instructed. "Blaine hasn't gotten worse tonight. He's still bleeding, but it's lightened a bit since he's calmed down. He'll be fine for the next hour, and you need to get out of this room."

Grudgingly, Kurt knew he was right. "A half hour," Kurt insisted. "I just need to move my legs. I'll be back before you know I'm gone."

"I'm sure you will," Medice said with a small smile.

Kurt left Blaine's rooms knowing where he would go. Angelica and Gemma were gone from the antechamber and bedroom, so Kurt figured they must have gone to get some sleep. He walked quickly to his room to change, splashed some water on his face, and grabbed a hooded cloak. He was walking out of the palace no more than ten minutes after he left Blaine's room.

He left through the kitchen. It was crowded with cooks preparing food for the day and he managed to slip through unnoticed. Kurt made a beeline for the hedge maze. He threaded in and out of the twists and turns expertly, even after so much time away from home, until he reached Fons Fortunae at its center.

He dipped fingers into his shirt pocket and pulled out a dull gold coin. "Prove that you work," Kurt said, stepping up to the fountain's edge. "I asked you once before to not let anything hurt Blaine. You haven't done a very good job of it, but…I need to ask again. His fate has been left to nothing but chance, and that's a risk I can't live with. If there's any power in this, I need it behind Blaine now, carrying him through. Please. Heal him." Kurt pressed his lips to the coin briefly, said a last prayer over it, and held his breath as he flicked it into the water.

The coin sunk to the bottom of the fountain and nestled among the hundreds of other coins arrayed at the bottom. His wish was one among many. Kurt wondered how many of them had come true, or if any of them had been given with the desperation and love he had put into his own wish.

That done, Kurt lifted up the hood of his cloak, fastened it around his neck, and walked into the town of Lima. Before leaving to Westerville, Kurt had hardly ever visited the village. He never had a need to. Everything he needed and loved had been up at the castle. Now, the person he loved most was caught in a life-or-death battle, and whether in the castle or out of it, Kurt couldn't do anything to help him. A walk in the village, with its myriad of scents and sights and sounds, would prove a welcome distraction for half an hour or so.

Hood up, he knew that his face was cast in shadow and no one would recognize him. It was a stuffy disguise on a hot day, but it was better than being recognized. It allowed him to walk around unnoticed, with people treating him as if he was just another Lima villager.

As much as could be expected, Kurt enjoyed his walk around town. He used a copper coin to buy a flower at a flower cart, and he gave it to a random, rather downcast looking woman he passed on the street. She brightened up when he bent at the waist and offered it to her, and gaped after his back as he walked away. He grabbed the shoulder of a little boy who almost ran in front of a horse-drawn cart to fetch a toy, and spent the next few minutes receiving the thanks of the boy's mother.

Finally, he settled back on a long bench in the town square, enjoying one last look around before he went back to the castle.

"May I?" Kurt looked up from under his hood to see a plump, middle-aged woman. She looked vaguely familiar, though Kurt didn't know where he could possibly recognize her from. Her dress was slightly more worn than that of many other people, indicating a poorer class of peasant. In spite of that, she was clean, and her red hair, streaked with grey, was assembled in a neat bun.

"Please," Kurt said, moving over on the bench to accommodate her.

"Ah, thank ya, dear," she said, sighing as she sat down. She chuckled amicably. "Not e'en midmorn' and my feet already need a break."

Kurt smiled, though he knew she couldn't see it. "It seems to be that kind of day," he said, voice trembling over the last words.

She clucked at him in concern and looked him over worriedly. "What now, m'dear? What's weighin' on yer min'?" Kurt shook his head. "It ne'er does good to keep tha' sort of thing inside, love."

Perhaps, Kurt thought, he could mention the truth. Much of the town had been there after all, and it might be therapeutic to speak with someone who didn't know who he was. "I heard there was a knight injured yesterday," he started cautiously. The woman's breath hitched. "In a duel with the king. There was…foul play."

He peered at the woman's reaction from under his hood. Her face had turned from cheerful to grave in a moment. "Aye," she said, almost bitterly. She sniffed, and Kurt saw that her eyes were over bright. "Blaine, 'is name was. Sir Blaine. Well, ya know all the stories abou' Sir Blaine."

"No," Kurt said softly, hardly daring to breathe.

"O' course ya do," she told him. "Tales from the war with the tribes in the north. Bound by the king t' the castle fer almos' a year, on account of 'e wouldn't stop lookin' for the prince. It's a horrid, _horrid_ thing wha' 'appened yes'erday."

"Careful," Kurt said, testing his words. "Some people might think you're speaking something awfully close to treason."

"Ah." She spit on the ground at her feet. Kurt's eyes widened and he looked back at her face. Her eyes still shimmered, a tear or two had escaped, and she was looking up toward the sky. With a start, Kurt realized where he recognized her from.

"You're the woman," he whispered before he could stop himself.

"Hmm?" The woman looked down and wiped her tears away hastily. "Wha' was tha', m'dear?"

"Nothing," Kurt said hastily, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her. It was her – the woman who had held Blaine's head. Kurt could see her, apron stained with Blaine's blood, cradling his head and lifting her face to the sky as tears poured from her cheeks. "What's your name?"

"Aurem Custos," she said, holding out her hand to him. Kurt took it, his natural instinct to lift it to his lips, but she shook his hand vigorously instead. He smiled in spite of himself. "I was there," she informed him. "I saw e'erything – e'erything that 'appened to that poor boy."

"Have you heard anything about him?" Kurt asked, curious as to how much people in the village knew. "Is he alive?"

"I pray for 'im," she said fiercely. "Las' I 'ear, he's still alive, bein' tended to by them fancy 'ealers in the palace. M'dear?" Kurt, face shadowed by his clock still, turned toward her. "I've been talkin' an awful lot. Wha' d'you think abou' wha' 'appened?"

"I think," Kurt said slowly. "That we don't need someone who would do that leading this country." The words had been hammering on the inside of his head and to finally voice them made his shoulders sink in relief.

"Aye," Aurem said slowly. "Well, then…" She was quiet for a few moments, and when she spoke again, it was in a whisper. "Tie it to yer clothes." She reached out, took his hand, and pressed a small bit of fabric into his palm.

He opened his hand. It in it sat several inches of ribbon. "Scarlet," Kurt said. "Westerville colors."

"Aye," Aurem said. "Sir Blaine's 'ome fief. It's fer those of us who'll believe in 'im until the end." Kurt's eyes traveled up to Aurem's hair again. This time, he noticed that it was held back with a scarlet ribbon identical to the one she'd given him. "Fer those of us who know the truth about wha' the king did. Fer those of us who are ready fer a better future."

Kurt gaped in response to her words. Her faith in Blaine and her passion for his wellbeing made Kurt's heart soar with hope. Suddenly, he felt choked up. He burst to his feet and took her hand. "Thank you," he said, forgoing her earlier mode of greeting by bending over it in the way he knew how and kissing the back of her hand gently. "But be careful who give these to." She nodded, looking confused.

He turned to go, but turned back to Aurem to give her one last thanks. "Aurem, thank you, truly," he said. "I – I was there…at the duel. I saw you holding Blaine's head up so it wouldn't fall backward, with no thought for the blood across your dress or on your hands."

"The boy deserves some dignity," she maintained, "no matter wha' 'appens. 'E fought like a hero. 'E is a hero. Tha's why we'll support 'im, in life an' death. Tha's why we'll champion 'is cause, no matter wha'. Look fer the ribbons as ya walk. You'll see yer allies."

"I will," Kurt promised.

"Wai'," Aurem said, standing and touching his shoulder as he moved away. "I didn't catch yer name."

Preparing himself for her reaction, Kurt reached up and pulled back his hood enough for her to see his face. Aurem gasped and took a step back, a hand over her chest in shock. "Y-Yer Hi –"

"Shh," Kurt said quietly, reaching out and touching her hand. She stared at the spot he touched as he reached out to her. "You're not in trouble – quite the opposite." Feeling daring, and with little to lose, he continued. "You have friends in the palace, including Blaine." He held up the ribbon. "I'll be telling them about these." She nodded as he spoke, looking stupefied. "I might be in touch with you before long, Aurem Custos," he told her. He smiled reassuringly before pulling his hood back. "And please, call me Kurt."

She stared at him with wide eyes as he turned and walked away. Kurt felt considerably better than he did an hour ago, and as he made his way back through the village, he saw a handful of people with a scarlet ribbon incorporated slyly into their clothes or hair.

A new fire lit in his belly, he returned to the castle with a new, fierce resolution. He found Noah in the library. "The movement," Kurt said shortly. He glanced around to make sure they were alone and then set the ribbon down in front of him. "I was just in town. As of now…you can count me in." He braced his arms on the table and leaned forward. "What now?"

Looking intrigued, Noah picked up the ribbon and turned it over in his hands. "A color revolution," he mused quietly. "Brilliant." He looked up at Kurt. "Now? Now we get to work."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hopefully this makes some people people feel better! I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible to ease some minds so I hope it worked. I loved hearing what everyone thought of the last chapter (yes, everyone! :D) and I'd love to hear you all again! A few of you sillies seem to want to apologize for embarrassing yourself. Does...not...compute. I'm the queen of embarrassing myself so fear not, for you could never take the title from me! (Shall we duel for it? Ahhh, bad puns. See what I mean? Embarrassing.)_

_Thanks for reading, my lovelies! :3 _


	26. Chapter 26 :: A New Hope

_A/N: This chapter isn't as long as the last one, unfortunately, and it was initially going to be only half of one chapter, but I decided to split them up after I finished this section. I hadn't gotten out an update in way too long! On another note, I FREAKING LOVE MY REVIEWERS. You guys are all just so...GAHHH SO ADORABLE. And you say such nice things all the time, my heart wants to explode with every one I read! I love you guys, thanks for being awesome!_

_Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

"Kurt. Kurt." He was being shaken.

In his dream, Kurt had initially been happy. He had been lying in Westerville's grape orchards with Blaine, side by side, as they had been before they'd left. It was hot, too hot, hotter than summer ought to be. Kurt lifted his head from where it laid on Blaine's chest and opened his eyes to see fire raging around them, consuming every vine it touched. Kurt saw leaves burn away and almost mature grapes shrivel before his eyes.

He scurried to his feet, head swiveling to take in the raging fire that surrounded them. Frantically, he whirled around to grab Blaine's hand and haul him to his feet so they could run. Kurt tugged at him but Blaine was limp. He wouldn't wake. Kurt strained futilely against Blaine's dead weight, but he could hardly move him.

The fire advanced upon them as Kurt finally grabbed Blaine under both arms and tried to hoist him away. His eyes didn't open, and his head banged around haphazardly with no muscle interference. Kurt wouldn't leave him. He would rather die running with Blaine in his arms than live alone.

The flames advanced upon them, hot, scarlet, burning, and ruthless. When they hit Kurt, he dropped to his knees. In place of physical pain that he would logically feel, Kurt writhed in the throes of the emptiness that came with the destruction, right before his eyes, of one half of his heart.

"Kurt. Kurt." The voice came again, bringing Kurt to the surface of reality. His eyes fluttered and he squirmed in his sheets, disoriented. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his bare chest was clammy and cold to the touch.

"Shh, quiet, Kurt. It was just a dream." A cool hand stroked the soaked bangs off of his hot forehead, and he felt cool rings press against his skin.

"Aunt Vivienne," Kurt muttered, waking fully and sitting up. He took several deep breaths to slow his gasps. "It was a nightmare. I was…there was fire."

"Kurt," Vivienne interrupted. "I came to wake you. I thought that you would want to see." She averted her eyes. "I couldn't sleep, so I decided to sit in Blaine's room for a while."

Kurt snapped to attention. "Tell me," he said quickly. It had been more than a week since the duel. For half of it, Blaine teetered on the brink, but after about three days, his wounds clotted, the bleeding stopped, and they all heaved a collective sigh of relief. Just two days ago, Blaine had fully and lucidly woken up for the first time. Everything had seemed to be on a good track, and Medice had felt confident enough to feed Blaine room temperature soft fruit – he was hydrated, but had desperately needed nutrition.

"Half an hour ago," Vivienne started. "Well, you'd better come, Kurt…j-just in case." Her breath hitched and she put her fingertips over her mouth. "In case of the worst."

Kurt felt sick. He lurched to his feet, slipped on a shirt that he had cast over the back of a chair earlier, and didn't bother changing into a different pair of breeches before following Gemma into the hall. Things had been going so well. He had even dared to hope that Blaine would be alright after all. To calm himself, he drew his mind back to the last kiss they had shared.

People, two or three of them, were always in Blaine's room – Sam, or Noah, or Gemma, or Finn, or even Duke Burton. After Blaine had begun to heal, Angelica also stayed with her brother from time to time. People's constant worry about Blaine was one of the things that Kurt had been touched by most. Even so, there had been a moment when it had been only him and Blaine. Blaine had been taking a nap, and Kurt was reading in the corner.

"_You're here," Blaine said._

_Kurt looked up and hurried to Blaine's bedside. "I'm here," he confirmed._

"_Still?" Blaine smiled weakly and opened his hand, resting on the bed, palm up._

_Kurt returned the smile and took it gently. "Always," he said._

"_Kurt?" Blaine pressed his eyes together, as if something had suddenly pained him._

_Kurt struggled to keep his voice level. "What?" Blaine looked healthier than he had yet and Kurt didn't want to startle him by fussing incessantly over one little action._

"_Can I ask you a favor?"_

"_Anything."_

_Blaine's eyes opened. Pain sat behind their amber sheen, tearing Kurt's heart up. "Kiss me? Please? For a while…when I saw the sword…and then there was a lot of light, and then blackness, and then…pain. I thought I'd never get to feel you touch me again. Th-that thought…scarier than any pain I could ever go through."_

_Kurt's breath trembled on his inhale, and he wiped away a tear that escaped and traced a chilly line down his cheek. He leaned forward and placed his lips against Blaine's delicately. He lingered there for a long moment, chaste in his method, before lifting a hand to smooth over Blaine's cheek and leaning away._

"_I love you," Blaine whispered. "You do know that, don't you?"_

"_Shh," Kurt hushed him, throat clogged with tears. "Don't talk; you need to save your strength." He wiped away his tears hastily. "I know. Above all else, I do know that."_

"_Good," Blaine said. He was short of breath, as if he had been sprinting. He laid his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes._

"_Blaine?" Kurt asked quietly after a moment, but Blaine was already asleep._

"He was doing fine," Vivienne said, interrupting Kurt's reverie. "All night, and not a peep out of him. About an hour ago, I realized he was feverish so I called Medice."

"Why were you with him?" Kurt asked, curious.

If he hadn't known better, Kurt would have sworn that he saw his aunt blush. "Blaine is a fine knight, and an even better person. He does not deserve this lot that he has been given. I feel a certain…obligation to see to his well-being. My son…my son was responsible for this."

"Aunt Vivienne, that isn't your fault," Kurt started.

"It may as well be," she interrupted. "Parents are responsible for their children. If something I've done has led to this, I'll never be able to forgive myself. Now, when it's too late, I'm powerless to do anything."

Kurt didn't say anything, so Vivienne continued. "Half an hour ago, he started vomiting up the food that Medice gave him last night. There's…there's blood, Kurt, a lot of blood."

"No," Kurt muttered, burying his face in his hands. His steps faltered, the world swam and he had to brace his shoulder against the wall.

Vivienne laid a hand on his shoulder. "Quickly, Kurt, please," she beseeched him. "Medice said that he didn't know how long –"

"Don't," Kurt warned sharply. "Don't you dare say it. We don't know what will happen. We don't." Vivienne shook her head minutely and observed him levelly until he regained his composure and resumed walking.

When they entered Blaine's rooms, Kurt could hear retching from the bedroom. He rushed in to see Medice holding a bucket and supporting Blaine's frame as he shook and trembled with fever, and expelled the contents of his stomach.

"Oh my God," Kurt whispered when Blaine looked up at him. His amber eyes were haunted and pained. His bottom jaw hung slack, exposing teeth covered in a veneer of scarlet blood. Similarly, blood trickled down the front of his chin, standing out morbidly against his wan skin.

"K-K-K," Blaine stuttered, the words choking off in his throat as he bent over the bucket again. Kurt raced forward and climbed up onto the bed next to Blaine so he could support the other man's weak frame, which didn't have the strength to support itself.

Medice, who had previously been doing two tasks, let go of Blaine and took a double-handed grip in the bucket. Kurt looked at it and immediately regretted the decision. The contents of the bucket were mixed with chunks of something unthinkable and more than a little blood.

"Blaine," Kurt muttered softly, holding onto Blaine's shoulders. He leaned his head on Blaine's back briefly. "Shh, relax. Try to relax your muscles."

Blaine's entire body shook. He finished heaving and Kurt leaned away so Medice could lower Blaine back onto his pillows. He swiped a wet cloth gently over Blaine's chin and neck, cleaning away the blood. He offered Blaine a small cup of water to wash out his mouth, but Blaine's hands were trembling too much to grip the cup. Medice aided him in that, as well.

"Y-you're h-here," Blaine said weakly.

Kurt was still kneeling on an edge of the large bed, his arms drawn around himself tightly. "I'm here." He hadn't noticed before, but Blaine's cheeks had hollowed out so that he no longer looked healthy. Dark smudges were spread under his eyes and his bones stuck out at sharp, gaunt angles. After only a week, it seemed impossible that he should look as such, but Medice had warned that no nutrition coupled with healing and fending off infection might do such a thing to him.

"S-still?" A weak smile played on Blaine's lips, but this time Kurt didn't return it. Blaine's breath hitched and he sunk back on the pillows.

"What is it?" Kurt asked, finally getting to his feet on the ground.

Medice shook his head seriously. To the side, Laqueus removed buckets and replaced them with clean ones. "Risk a look," Medice whispered. He lifted Blaine's bandage to expose his wound, and Kurt gasped upon sight of it. The edges were angry, and red radiated across his stomach. "Infection. It set in quickly, overnight, and he has a fever."

"It isn't as bad as he makes it seem," Blaine muttered. "I'll be in fighting shape in no time. I can barely feel it – _ahh_!" He clutched his side and fresh spots of blood appeared in his mouth, though he didn't vomit again.

"Don't talk," Medice instructed him, firmly but not unkindly. "Just relax, like Kurt said a moment ago."

After a moment, Blaine nodded and leaned his head back again. He looked exhausted, though all he was doing was trying to exist. The four of them settled into an awkward silence.

"Blaine," Vivienne said finally, breaking the tension. Her voice was soft and soothing. "Would you like see your mother, perhaps? I could fetch her."

"Th-that would be good," Blaine told her, smiling as she stepped toward him. She touched his hand lightly and returned his smile before turning to leave the room. "Your Majesty?"

"Please, dear," Vivienne said. "There's no need for such formalities. Vivienne will do just fine."

"Thank you," Blaine said. Kurt looked back and forth between his aunt and his lover. His heart was racing, and it ached at seeing their fond interaction. "Thank you for being here with me. I was…scared when I woke up sick. Th-thank you."

Vivienne smiled sympathetically. "Oh my dear, you are very welcome. I'll be back before you know it." Kurt could feel tears trying to well in his eyes as he watched her go. Everything – every word anyone said, every action they made, and every glance they gave – put Kurt on the verge of tears. His emotions felt raw, exposed, and hyperactive.

"Kurt, do you mind watching over Blaine?" Medice asked. "Just for a moment or two. It's important that everything we might need stays stocked, and Laqueus can only carry so much."

"I don't mind," Kurt said listlessly.

"Walk with me to the door," Medice requested. It was apparent that Kurt didn't have an option in the matter, so he sighed and followed the old doctor. When they were out of the bedroom, he spoke again. "I wanted to speak with you out of Blaine's hearing. I don't think he can go on much longer like this."

Kurt closed his eyes. It was as if he was living in a dream – or rather, a horrible, horrible nightmare. "Like this?" Kurt asked, clinging to the implication of the words. "If the condition were to change?"

"That's his only hope. I would have to manipulate his condition myself. The skin is infected, and it's beginning to accumulate pus." Medice looked thoughtful as he explained. "There are several things to be done. I think at this point, we should apply all of the methods."

"Tell me."

"I want to clean it out with water that has been boiled first," Medice detailed. "There's dead tissue inside of the wound. It needs to be excised; it's making his reaction worse. I can cut that and the worst of the infection away. Think of it as a new start. But he'll need something to keep it healthy and to remove the rest of the infection from the skin."

"Do you have anything?" Kurt asked desperately.

Medice paused, and then shook his head. "But I know what we need. It's a country recipe. In the city, people think they can buy treatments that look fancy – like leeches to suck out the infection – but nothing works like a true, old-fashioned countryside remedy. It's usually used by shamans, tribe healers, those sorts. It's a poultice of onion, ginger, and other special ingredients. The art of making it has been lost to many people, so that it lives in in very few."

"Perfect," Kurt hissed. "Our only hope is out of reach. Unless _you_ are one of those few?"

"I'm afraid not," Medice said genuinely. "But I've seen it used. When I was a young man, I studied foreign medicine everywhere from across the Mediterranean to the Far East. In the last place I stayed in the far north, there was a woman, my age – a brilliant healer, the best I have ever seen. I've witnessed her save many men with it."

"What do you want me to do?" Kurt asked hopelessly. "Travel north to your town and pray that the woman is still alive, only to bring her here to make the poultice in the hope that Blaine is…that he's –"

"She _is_ alive," Medice said urgently. "She knows that I work here, in the royal palace. I heard from her for the first time in many, many years not long ago. The same day that you arrived, in fact. Her message came by some sort of trained bird, of all things. I didn't have a chance to respond to her before the duel." The old man shrugged. "After the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Blaine's injury, I hazarded to think several steps ahead. I wrote her the morning after, asking her if she was still in the practice of making her anti-infection poultice."

Kurt gaped. He had a newfound respect for Medice. "I'll get it," he said quickly. "If she sent you a message, she must be nearby. Where is she? I'll fetch her and the poultice." Kurt shook his head in wonder. "Now of all times in the past years. It's fate, Medice. What is she's meant to save Blaine?"

"Not fate," Medice said. Behind his eyes, Kurt could see that he knew something he wasn't sharing. "Her communication wasn't by chance. Before this happened, I had been planning on showing the letter to the king. Now, I dare not."

"What do you mean? Why?"

"She's sending an intermediary to meet you at the outskirts of town," Medice said. "You'll found out everything then. She promised that you would be safe, and that you would return unharmed, but I would urge you to bring a dagger. You'll meet the intermediary when the sun crests the horizon in several hours. Follow them to her, detail Blaine's condition as thoroughly as you can, and return to the castle swiftly."

"Why can't she come to the castle and see him for herself?" Kurt asked. "Surely that would be better?"

"She daren't," Medice said mysteriously. "All in good time, Kurt. Now, I'll be back soon, and then you had better start walking."

Extremely confused but with a bubble of new hope in his chest, Kurt returned to Blaine's bedroom.

"Alone at last," Blaine said quietly, as if every word were a struggle for him.

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "You need to stop trying to be funny," he said, sitting by Blaine's side. He lifted a hand and ran it over Blaine's forehead, pushing the curls away. "You'll hurt yourself."

"I think that has already been accomplished," Blaine said. "I need to tell you something."

"Alright," Kurt said hesitantly.

"If…if I don't…if I don't make it," Blaine started.

"No," Kurt said immediately, shaking his head back and forth furiously. "No, you can't talk like that. You will make it. You'll get better. Medice knows how to treat you."

"Kurt." The word was quiet but it effectively silenced Kurt, though he continued to shake his head back and forth as tears welled in his eyes. "Please, just listen." Reluctantly, Kurt nodded. "You need to tell my mother and sister that I don't…I don't want them to go into mourning for long. I want them to…to…" He broke off coughing. Kurt scrambled for a cloth to hand him. Blaine took it and covered his mouth. Kurt rubbed his back as coughs wracked his skeletal frame, and when he took the cloth away, it was covered in a misting of blood.

"I w-want them to keep about things as they normally would," he continued finally. "The little monster can marry that horrid Jameson fellow one day. He's not actually so horrid at all. She told me yesterday that he sat with her for four days straight, trying to make her feel better." Blaine laughed weakly. "M-maybe my mother can remember me as a hero, not…not like this."

"You are a hero," Kurt said, his voice watery. "We won't have to remember you like anything, because you'll be right there next to us."

"Maybe," Blaine said unconvincingly. "You…you just need to know…that I don't regret…one _second_ of our time. I don't regret that it…that it led me here. I would rather have lived with you against the law for a short time than lived with anyone else for thousands of years."

Kurt leaned over Blaine, his hand tracing his cheek lovingly, tears caught in his eyes. "Oh, Blaine…"

"It's true. We were apart so many times, for so long, but we were brought back together each time. Fate has a way of arranging what's right, don't you think?"

"We're proof," Kurt agreed. "That just means that you have to live then, because I can't be fated to live the rest of my days alone."

"That's what I w-wanted to say," Blaine labored. "I-if you…find someone else – someone like you. Love them Kurt, love them like we love each other now. You're so young. I c-can't stand the thought of you being alone forever because of me."

"I don't want to be with anyone who isn't you," Kurt whispered, leaning his forehead against Blaine's. "We'll be together, always." He took Blaine's hand and moved it over his heart. "And you'll always be here."

"One last thing," Blaine said. His trembling fingers struggled with the collar of his shirt until he finally got ahold of what he was fumbling for. Blaine pulled out Kurt's ring, still on the chain. "I thought I should return it."

"You've kept it on?" Kurt asked quietly. He reached out and traced the ring lightly with his fingertips.

"Good luck," Blaine said. "I don't think it worked the way it was supposed to."

"It worked exactly as it was supposed to," Kurt said, voice choked with unshed tears. "You're still alive." He took Blaine's hand, cupped it around the ring, and closed it. "When I get back, you can give it to me. You have to make it until then. You have to be alright."

Blaine smiled weakly. "I can try. We were born with a very deadly disease," he said ruefully. "Life. One hundred percent mortality."

"Not this time," Kurt said fiercely. He pressed his lips to Blaine's forehead, and then to his lips. He could taste the lingering tang of blood but he could not care less. He kissed Blaine with more force than he had the last time, lips insistent and reassuring.

He heard the door to the hall creak as it was opened, and clunk as it closed. Kurt kissed Blaine one last time swiftly, and was already standing up and leaning against a wall when Medice and Laqueus came in.

Medice looked at him meaningfully and Kurt moved toward the door. He looked back at Blaine before he left. The knight was looking after him with his amber eyes opened wide. His hand was still clutched around the ring. "Not this time," he repeated. _This time, I'm going to save you_. "This isn't goodbye."

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><p><em>AN: My heart. Writing ill!Blaine is so heart-wrenching! I hope you guys were at least a little moved by it :D Two things in this chapter were borrowed from other places: 1) "Fate has a way of arranging what's right" - it's from _Pocahontas II _which I love in spite of hate it gets! 2) "We were born with a very deadly disease: life. 100% mortality." It's something my Italian professor said last quarter, and it was so powerful that it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I knew at that very moment that someone in this story would say it after the duel._

_Sorry that I haven't gotten a chance to respond to last chapter's reviews yet! I'm so busy, it's actually crazy! I will get around to it, though!_

_Anyone have any predictions about what'll happen next? ;) I'm curious!_

_ Let me know what you thought! __I hope you all enjoyed, dftba!_


	27. Chapter 27 :: The Remedy

_A/N: I won't apologize for the wait, I've done that too often, but I'll say that I hope the length makes up for it and I will never ever abandon this story. It's too close to my heart by this point. I'm invested.  
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_On another note, if PC was my child (and it kind of is), it would have turned one on May 12th! Yayyyyy! I can't believe it's been so long? Is anyone who started reading it then still here even? XD_

_No one guessed who Medice's friend was! Either I'm far more clever than I give myself credit for, or I've set this up far too poorly! I hope you're all pleasantly surprised!  
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_Enjoy!  
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><p><em>Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

Kurt made his way to the edge of town as the sky was beginning to pinken. Before leaving the castle, he had changed into a new set of clothes, one of his plainer ones. He wore a cloak, as he always did in the city, but everyone who mattered knew who he was anyway.

As he walked, he examined his sleeve. Daphne had done a flawless job. After his first conversation with Aurem, the event that had broken his last string of resistance to his friends' plans, Kurt had wasted no time in informing everyone in their circle of what he had found out. The men, it had been decided, would have the scarlet ribbon sewn into their left shirt cuffs, where it would appear to be a harmless accessory. But, as Sam had pointed out during the meeting, those in the know would recognize it, and they were more likely to lend serious support if they knew that they were fighting alongside powerful people.

He ran his fingers over the ribbon lightly, integrated so seamlessly that it looked to be part of the shirt. In a strange way, having the ribbon around his wrist made him feel closer to Blaine. Blaine had always done so much for him, and now he could finally do something in return. Blaine and Noah had been the ones to birth the idea of insurrection, with the same thing happening in the city on a slight delay. Completely by chance, Kurt became the link between the two. The ribbon was a life line, a thread of hope, a heartstring stretching between him and Blaine. As long as it remained whole, and held power, Blaine could never really die.

With a fluttery sigh, he lowered his hand and focused on his progress through the city. Though it was hardly dawn, the city was already awake and people were beginning to bustle. Kurt nodded to a selection of them as he walked: a woman with a scarlet hair ornament, the baker with scarlet bows tied onto his bread baskets, the young couple with matching bracelets. In over a week, Kurt had come to understand just what it meant to have gotten himself involved. He was no longer responsible for one life, or, perhaps, even two.

He reached the edge of town to find himself alone. The sun had yet to crest the horizon, so Kurt sat down to wait. Not even a minute passed before he saw the swish of a cloak as someone scurried behind the well several paces away.

"Hello?" Kurt asked sharply. "It's alright. I've seen you. Show yourself. Please, hurry. We've no time to lose." Distress laced his voice. The person – the intermediary, Kurt figured – took pity on him and crept out from behind the well. Their hood was pulled low, shadowing their face, but he saw long curls spilling out – a woman?

"Thank you," Kurt said gratefully. "You know why I'm here, don't you? I need…" His voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He _knew_ that hair. As the intermediary lifted back her hood, he saw that she wasn't the intermediary at all. "_Angelica_!" Kurt looked at the guilty girl, aghast.

"I _don't_ know why you're here," Angelica said, looking at the ground and scuffing her boot in the dirt. "That's why I followed you."

Kurt ran his hands through his hair. "I absolutely cannot _believe_ you, Angelica," he said seriously. It was the harshest he had ever spoken to her, and she cringed. "You followed me all the way through the city? What were you _thinking_? I could have been going somewhere dangerous." He had taken Medice's advice and brought a dagger. He could feel the sheath where it was strapped above the elbow of his left arm, reminding him that danger wasn't totally out of the picture. "You're a child, Angelica. You don't belong out here."

Tears brimmed in her emerald eyes and she stomped down her foot. "I am _not_ a child anymore." She leveled a pointing finger at him. "You are the child for thinking that it's right to keep secrets. You went to Blaine's rooms then you came here. I heard you and Queen Vivienne talking as you passed my door and I woke up. No one tells me anything. I'm twelve years old almost, and Blaine is my brother."

"Some things need to stay secrets for the greater good," Kurt began angrily. What he was going to say next died in his throat as his eyes followed Angelica's outstretched arm. There, circling her wrist loosely, was a scarlet ribbon.

Kurt grabbed her wrist, harder than he should have on account of the shock of fear and worry shooting through him. "Who gave you this?" he asked, shaking her wrist slightly for emphasis. "Where did you get it? Do you know what it means?"

Eyes wide, Angelica shook her head. "No one gave it to me. Daphne left some scraps in mother's room and I took some." Kurt took a deep breath and released her. "You have one! Everyone has one – you, Noah, Mama…_everyone_. I want one too!"

Kurt sighed and rubbed his forehead. "First of all, everyone most certainly does not have one. Listen to me very carefully Angelica, and don't repeat a word of this." She nodded. "Only a few, special people have them. It's meant to show…that all these people have something very important in common, a secret that you have to be older to know about, which is why you cannot wear that. Other people who don't know, if they thought you did, might do terrible things to get you to tell."

Angelica's brow furrowed. "It's a secret that important?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "It's the most important." He didn't want politics to even come close to touching her. Her words had painted an unsettling thought into his mind, though. The last thing he wanted was for ignorant people to see the new addition as some sort of fascinating trend to be copied. However, it didn't seem to be a possibility that could be avoided, and there was no better way for allies to recognize each other.

"What _are_ you doing out here?" Angelia said, hastily wiping away a tear. Kurt suddenly felt bad for reacting as he had. "Is it for your secret?"

"Yes. Well, no, it's for Blaine." Angelica's eyes lit up. "No, not like that. Nothing good. He's…worse," Kurt said, fighting for words. Angelica's look of excitement morphed into one of incomprehension. "He's sicker. I'm here to meet someone who can hopefully make him better."

"Let me stay," Angelica begged him, grabbing onto one of Kurt's hands. "Please. I've not been able to do anything to help Blaine and I want to so badly."

Kurt's lips tightened. "I understand, but I can't, in good faith, bring you amongst people I don't know who may or may not be dangerous," Kurt explained.

"I can fight," Angelica persisted. She held up both of her fists and bounced on the balls of her feet. "Noah taught me."

Kurt gaped at her. "Noah taught you to _street fight_?" Kurt asked. Was he the only responsible one left? "We'll deal with _that_ later. Angelica, I just can't. I can't be the one responsible should anything happen to you."

"Have you that little faith? We came all this way to help you." Kurt whirled toward the strange voice and stepped in front of Angelica. His eyes fixed on the figure but it took his brain several long moments to process who he saw there. Then, once he had, he had to fight back his own disbelief. He gaped at the true intermediary. "Nice to see you, too, Your Highness."

"You, you, you're…you," Kurt stuttered.

Thin ebony eyebrows drew together. "What have they _done_ to you? You look absolutely horrible, I'll have you know – like death."

"I…I thought I would never see you again," Kurt said breathlessly.

Kova's stoic face broke into a rare smile, making her sapphire eyes crinkle around the edges. She held open her arms. "Come on, I'm not going to stand here forever. I feel like an idiot. If you want a hug, now is the time. The _only_ time."

A bubble of disbelieving laughter rose in his throat as Kurt moved to embrace Kova. "You're the intermediary," Kurt said in disbelief. "But that…that must mean…"

"We have to go see my mother," Kova completed. "She has what you need."

"I cannot believe this," Kurt said. "Alku is the woman Healer Medice spoke of." Kova smirked, obviously enjoying his dumbfounded expression.

Kurt felt a tap on his side and he started. In the shock of seeing Kova, he had nearly forgotten about Angelica. He put a hand on her shoulder to indicate that she shouldn't be afraid. "Who is this?" she asked bluntly.

Kurt stuttered. "S-she…um…she's…" He looked to Kova for help, but her mouth was pressed into a tight line. "You've only been at court for a while, miss," Kurt informed her finally, falling back on the weak excuse of lack of knowledge. "Do you think you know _everyone_ there is to know?"

"How can she help my brother?" Angelica asked suspiciously, emerald eyes narrowed.

"Kova," Kurt started, the words reminding Kurt of why they were meeting. "We have to go quickly. Do you know why I'm here?"

"I know enough." She looked at Kurt meaningfully. She knew it was about Blaine, Kurt could tell by the way her lips pursed together even tighter. It suddenly became real to Kurt, how he had spent nine months away from home, and how this girl had been a substitute friend for so long that somewhere along the way, she had become a real one. They truly knew each other; he could read her with a glance.

"Then you know we don't have very much time."

Kova nodded curtly. "Follow me. Make sure the little one keeps up."

"I am _not_ little," Angelica protested hotly. "I'm almost twelve whole years old, thank you. I'll have you know that ever since Kurt taught me to shoot I've beaten everyone else my age at archery, even the boys. Jameson challenged me to shoot an apple off of someone's head, and even though I knew that I _could_, I said no because I'm responsible."

Slowly, the corners of Kova's mouth turned in a smirk. "Feisty," she commented, approval evident in her tone. "Don't tell me she learned to be so from her brother. He always seemed so…unbelievably idealistic when you talked about him."

"You would be surprised. I was." Up until that moment, Kurt hadn't seriously thought about the Blaine he used to know compared to the one he had come back to. He had seen the difference of course, but he hadn't recognizes the change. "I suppose," Kurt said slowly, "that people change."

Kova observed him for a long moment as they walked, her brow drawn down. "Speaking of change," she said. "There have been some changes with the Raju."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked quickly.

"Some people decided to rebel," she explained. Past the edge of the city, Kova led them into a thicket of trees. Kurt held Angelica's hand tightly. He had no idea where they were going, but Kova seemed to, and he trusted her. "Care to guess who?"

"Suaite," Kurt said hoarsely.

Kova nodded reluctantly. "He's been acting out against Sokko for a while, you know that. He managed to convince about two thirds of us to abandon Sokko altogether, and live a more…proactive lifestyle."

"Proactive?" Kova shrugged her shoulders. Kurt continued, "Who's left?"

"Myself, Alku, Sokko, Tammuz, Ishtar, Petturi, and Cara."

"Hardly anyone," Kurt said in disbelief. "How did he convince so many to leave?" He understood why the first five had stayed, and both Petturi and Cara had seemed a good enough sort. However, so had many others.

"Sokko had just failed with you," Kova said, her voice betraying no emotion. "Suaite promised them a new kind of life. He sold himself, and them."

The words put a sense of foreboding into Kurt's heart. His mind went back to the mention of hired soldiers during the meeting the day before the duel. They lived outside the law's reach and were paid to do whatever was asked of them. Kurt's stomach sunk unsettlingly.

"Anyways, there are less mouths to feed now," Kova said. She didn't sound very happy, but then again, she didn't sound very happy about anything. "We're here."

The other Raju camp he had been in was situated neatly in a clearing. This one was part of the woods themselves. Canvas tents, four of them, were squeezed tightly between tree trunks, making not a perfect circle but a random assortment. There were neither individual fire rings nor a communal bonfire. Instead, a couple of charred logs sat in roughly the middle of the tents. Kurt couldn't suppress his shock.

Kova noticed. "Don't make that face," she snapped, harsh and defensive. "We're doing just fine."

"You're not," Kurt said. "Come to the castle and stay for a few days. Have some real meals. We can hide you."

Kova scoffed. "The people who kidnapped the prince, staying in the castle?" Angelica gasped and gripped Kurt tighter. Kurt returned her grip reassuringly. Kova's eyes snapped to her calculatingly. "Surprised, angel?" The words were mocking, not meant endearingly.

"Not when I think about it," Angelica answered. The trembling of her voice betrayed her emotions, but Kurt had to silently applaud her daring.

Kova's face didn't betray her reaction. "Shouldn't we be hurrying?"

"You're the one leading," Kurt said patiently.

Kova rolled her eyes and stomped into one of the tents. Wondering where everyone else was, Kurt turned to Angelica. "It'll be fine," he whispered to her. He bent to kiss her forehead, and they followed Kova.

Alku was in the tent with a woman Kurt recognized as Cara. She was about his aunt's age, and like Alku her deformity was physical. Kurt didn't know much about her, besides the fact that the deep, rope-like scars over her face and body, as well as the absence of her tongue, were products of torture.

Kurt only realized he had forgotten to warn Angelica that the Raju were unlike other people when he heard skin hit skin, and he turned to see her hand clasped over her mouth. He quickly looked to Alku and Cara, but neither of them reacted.

Alku beamed at him. "We see each other again," she said, standing to embrace him and motioning for them to sit. "I knew we would. I only wrote to Sancus to assure myself of your well-being." Kurt didn't recognize the name at first. All at once, he realized that Medice's first name couldn't well be 'Healer', and she must be talking about him. "We had no idea whether or not you made it. Now…"

"Now you can pay me back for keeping me as a hostage for so long," Kurt said levelly, immediately reaching the point.

Alku gave him a small smile and nodded in acquiescence. "Tell me everything then."

Kurt launched into the explanation. He tried to keep it short, but by the time he was done, Cara had made both him and Angelica tea. The girl sipped hers as primly as she could out of a rough wooden cup as Kurt fiddled with his own cup.

At the end of his explanation, Kova looked sourer than ever and Alku had started measuring things and mixing them into different bowls. He had glossed over the reason for the duel and its sociopolitical effects. That was strictly need-to-know, and although he cared for these people, he didn't trust them, with the exception of Kova.

"If he's too far gone, it won't have as strong of an effect," warned Alku. "Apply it right away." She held up two bottles. She indicated the larger one, filled with a moist-looking mixture inside. "This goes on the wound. Sancus has to excise the infection first, but he knows that. Within the day, you'll be able to tell if it worked." She indicated the smaller bottle, which was filled with powder. "This goes into the water he drinks. Just a dash, twice a day. Sancus didn't ask for it, but from what you described to me, I think it will help. It won't hurt at least, _if_ you mix in no more than a dash per drink. No more."

Kurt nodded and took the bottles. "Thank you," he said, looking up at her gratefully. "You know how much this means." She nodded, looking at him kindly. "Is this everything?"

"One more thing." She picked up a rough, folded sheet of parchment, closed with a seal. "Give this to Sancus, and tell him…thank you."

Kurt nodded and tucked the parchment to his shirt pocket. He was curious about what was inside of it, but he would never look. He and Alku looked at each other for a silent moment before moving toward each other and embracing. "When all hope is lost," she whispered in his ear, "you have everything to gain."

Her words made Kurt's chest tighten and he nodded into her shoulder. "Kova will take you back to the edge of the woods."

They left the tent. Again, there was no one outside. "Where is everyone else?" he asked Kova.

"Hunting," she answered. "Gathering. Suaite took everything. If we don't catch it, we don't eat."

Kurt's stomach felt upset but he didn't offer charity again. They walked the rest of the way silently, to the edge of the trees. In the distance, Kurt could see the city with the castle in the middle, towering over everything else. In the early morning light it looked serene. You never would have been able to guess what was broiling underneath its surface.

"This is as far as I go," Kova said. Once more, Kurt was hesitant to separate from her. "You did say that we'd see each other again, didn't you? And look at us now."

"Circumstances are less than ideal," Kurt muttered.

Kova's face softened. "I do wish for him to heal. Whatever makes you happy, Kurt, I want that more than anything." She scowled suddenly. "And if you tell anyone I said that, _either_ of you, I'll skin you with my own two hands."

Angelica looked terrified but Kurt had to hide a laugh. "There's this crazy thing called praying." Kova spoke with abrasive nonchalance. Kurt knew it was paining her to say nice things at all, so he couldn't begrudge her the tone. "I don't know who listens, if anyone does at all, or if I'm just talking to the air." She cleared her throat and waved a hand vaguely. "I'll be doing it for Blaine though, either way."

"Do you want to see him?" Kurt asked suddenly.

Kova's eyes opened wide, betraying, for only a moment, genuine shock. "I – I couldn't. I couldn't go in the castle. It's too dangerous."

"The castle is huge. No one who would harm you would cross our path and even if they did, they wouldn't know you. You're far from what they would expect."

She looked around uncertainly, mouth opening and closing. Finally, she raised her hand and pointed a finger at Kurt. "Are you _sure_ that nothing will happen?" she asked. "You're positive?"

"Positive," Kurt assured her, pushing away her accusatory finger.

She nodded but didn't look at him, as if she was alone and trying only to convince herself. "I want to," she said finally, looking up at Kurt.

"Hurry then," Kurt said. He slipped out of his cloak, tied it around Kova's shoulders, and pulled the hood over her head. Before they started to walk, he slipped the letter and both of the bottles into the cloak's pockets.

"Now you look even scarier," Angelica commented as they began to walk toward town.

Kurt couldn't see under the shadow of the hood to Kova's expression, but he imagined that she sputtering noise she made was a product of trying to bite back laugher. He wanted to smile, but now that they were on their way back to the castle and reality, his humor was sobering. He kept looking nervously to the cloak pockets. The only hope there was of saving Blaine was an arm's reach away. It was strangely fitting that Kurt should be holding hope within his sight as he was accompanied by a lady and an innocent fugitive, all rushing to save his lover. It sounded made up, but then again, Kurt imagined that much of what had happened to him did.

They made it through the town without incident. A sharp glance from Kurt stopped the guards at the drawbridge from inquiring into the identity of his cloaked companion. "What did I tell you?" Kurt whispered to Kova as they climbed a set of stairs.

Kova's face pulled in a grimace. She stared past Kurt, who was turned toward her, farther down the corridor. "Oh, and just a _moment_ too soon." She turned her wide sapphire eyes on him resignedly. "I was really beginning to believe that you would be right."

"What are you talking abo –" His words faded away as he turned around. His steps faltered, and only Angelica's hand, still in his own, and Kova's sudden grip on his upper arm kept him upright. He had hoped to never see the man in front of him again. It made sense why he was there, although Kurt hadn't honestly spared a thought for him since the accident.

Both parties slowed as they approached one another. Lord Ander's brow was pulled down and knitted together with accusation. His emerald eyes, the same shade as his daughter's, travelled rapidly between the trio before settling on Kurt and Angelica's linked hands.

"Come," he commanded the girl, holding out an arm and snapping his fingers. When Angelica gripped Kurt tighter and shrunk toward him, he felt a mixture of protectiveness and foreboding. That was certain to make Ander mad.

As he predicted, Ander leaned forward, glaring. "Angelica, I am your father," Kova's grip tightened around Kurt's bicep, "this cursed court and bastard prince has already taken one of my children. I will _not_ have my youngest fall to the same fate. Come to me _now_."

Hoping that Ander was too enraged to notice, Kurt looked down at Angelica. She was looking up at him worriedly. Minutely, he nodded his head. Without a word, she let go of his hand. Head hung low and arms stiff at her side, Angelica approached her father.

That taken care of, Ander looked back to Kurt and Kova. "I should have known," he hissed. "Off gallivanting with _whores_ while my son is dying in his bed." He sneered. "Although I suppose that proves us all wrong, doesn't it? Shame, for I was just about to make a bet on how long it would take you to get yourself _beheaded_ you filthy, unnatural demon. You roped my son into your sinful madness and now you'll both burn in hell, and good riddance."

"_Kurt!_" Kova's shriek fell on deaf ears, for Kurt was surging forward. Boiling rage filled his veins. How could this man still dare to hiss insults at him? Before he could think of the consequences, his hands were balled up in Ander's shirt. Caught off guard, the bigger man stumbled back.

Kurt ran his back into the stone wall. Ander's hands rose to loosen Kurt's grip, but fueled by rage and passion, and with Ander dizzy from a sickening thump as his head contacted the stone, his attempts were futile. The force with which his teeth grinded together made Kurt's head thump with pressure, and a ringing danced through his ears, making Kova and Angelica's voices an indistinct murmur.

When he spoke, his voice sounded as if it came from another. "I may be going to _hell_," he said, bending his arms and pushing Ander into the wall again. He leaned close, eyes blazing. "But if I'm going there, then I wouldn't even be able to _fathom_ the unthinkable place you're going, you artless, beef-witted scut. Blaine is your _son_, and he's dying. He's half dead and you're here insulting me. I can forgive you for being a cowardly, quivering _measle_ who's too insecure about himself and his power to bother understanding people who are the least bit different from you. I can _never_ forgive you for how you treat your son – _never_. Blaine is honorable, and valiant, and _good_, and everything that you aren't. Both he and Angelica deserve someone who _isn't _you."

"Don't…dare…insult…" Ander's hands found Kurt's face. Such was his focus on his emotions that Kurt didn't even notice they had done so until he felt a biting pressure, and he felt something hot on his forehead. His grip loosened enough for Ander to gain freedom of mobility. He swung an arm back before launching it forward, clipping Kurt across the side of his face and sending him reeling backward.

Head spinning, Kurt tried to get his bearings. Through twisted vision, he saw Kova – scrawny Kova – charge up to Ander and shove him forcefully with both hands to his chest. Ander flicked her away as if she were an insect. Kurt only had a moment to fear for the fate of the bottles as Kova stumbled back into the corridor wall before Ander was approaching him again.

Angelica ran to Kova's side. Kurt finally tore his gaze away from the two girls when Ander came within arm's reach. He had silently dealt with the snide glances and comments for his year at Westerville. He had gone to the Winter Ball. He had done nothing when Ander embarrassed him in front of nobles from various other countries. He had been more or less cordial after running into him on his way back to Lima. He had been nothing but passably cordial to the man; he had certainly done nothing to warrant this.

He felt the blade of the dagger pressed against his leg. He could take it out. It would be so easy to end this fight. As Blaine had fought for him against David, Kurt felt as if he was fighting for Blaine as well as himself now. He couldn't win such a fight dishonorably. With the agility and precision that archery brought, he jabbed at Ander, hitting his stomach, before cutting up with his left hand and sending Ander careening eve as he continued to howl curses. Kurt didn't allow for a moment of reprieve. He advanced again, fists flying in a barrage of uncontrollable emotion. He knew he was not the only one landing blows. He was reminded of it every time he felt a sharp pain in his side, or on his face.

"_Enough_," Ander cried finally, pushing Kurt away. "I will not stand here and be challenged to a pageboy's scuffle. Angelica, to me!" When Angelica didn't move, Ander's face colored. He looked at Kurt one final time, hate not disguised, before stalking away.

Feeling as if he was exiting a dream and not believing what he had just done – he had just fought like a commoner with Blaine's father – Kurt looked around himself in a daze. A small amount of servants had accumulated. Some of them were staring at him, aghast, and others began to rush forward to help him.

"Don't touch me," Kurt said, still off-balance. The servants approaching him stilled their eyes wide. Kurt recognized that he didn't sound like himself. He _wasn't_ himself. "C-clean this up," he commanded, pointing at the ground, which was covered in blood. As was his face, he realized, as he raised a hand to his forehead, which had begun to pound.

Kova rushed toward him, Angelica on her heels like a trained puppy. They each took a firm grip on one of his arms and pulled him away from the small group of people. "That was stupid of you," Kova hissed as soon as they stopped.

"Oh quiet," Kurt said. "I saw you push him. The bottles!"

"They're fine," she said, brushing off his worry. "But _you_ aren't. Tell me the truth. Are you actually crazy?"

"Stop it," Kurt said tiredly. He looked away and settled his gaze on Angelica. Suddenly, he felt the smallest bit of guilt, because although Ander certainly deserved it, he was still Angelica's father. "Angie…I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she said, with a mask to rival one of Kova's. "He doesn't say very nice things…and he hurt you, and he doesn't like Blaine. I would rather be with you anyway. Can we go to Blaine now?"

"Yes," Kurt said after a brief pause. His balance was returning, and the pounding in his head had slowed. "Yes, let's go." He leaned off of the wall he'd fallen back on and turned to walk. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Kova place a hand on Angelica's shoulder and lean over to whisper to her, but he quickly told himself that he was imagining it.

It felt strange to be continuing to Blaine's room as if nothing had happened, but what else was there to do? Kova prowled circles around him as they walked, going faster and slower, like a wary panther. Only when they were in Blaine's rooms did she let out a breath of relief. In the antechamber, she placed her hand on the wall, as if to steady herself. "What's wrong?" Kurt asked softly. He peered into a mirror on the wall. All he saw at first was a face covered in red, and he looked away. He would assess the damage later. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she responded, sounding very unlike herself. "It's all a bit surreal, isn't it? I remember staying with you that first night, when you asked where Blaine was incessantly. I thought you made him up. Now he's in the next room…dying." She whispered the last word. "You just fought to the ground with his _father_, and you look as if a butcher has pulverized you with a hammer."

"_Thank_ you," Kurt said sarcastically.

"Not anymore," Angelica objected at the same time. "Blaine won't be dying anymore." She nudged Kurt. "The medicine lady said to _hurry_, Kurt."

"Too right," Kurt said. Kova fished the bottles and letter out of the cloak and handed them to him as they walked through the hall and into Blaine's bedroom.

"That took longer than I had thought it would," Medice said, his back turned. "Was it a su –" He turned and gasped as he saw them. "Your Highness! What on Earth has happened to you?"

"Not important," Kurt said, stepping forward. He held up the bottles. "This one's for the wound. This one is for his water. Twice a day. Only a dash. She made that very explicit – only a dash. This is for you." He set down the letter on a nearby table. His eyes went to Blaine, who was awake and silent. He looked pale and hardly alive.

"Fine, fine," Medice said, his face twisted in concern. "Laqueus, clean him up a little a least." Medice shook his head and set the bottles on the bedside table. "Who is this then?"

Kova lifted back the hood of Kurt's cloak slowly, eyes fixed on Medice. The healer's head tilted. "You look like her," he said quietly.

"Not anymore," Kova replied, just as quiet.

Medice nodded. "I heard what your father did. I was here in court when I found out. By the time my people got there…and by the time we knew about the fire, you and your mother were long gone."

"It was a long time ago," Kova said.

"Not _that_ long," Medice said kindly. Kurt gaped at the pair of them. Had they _met?_ They were talking like they knew each other, and yet he couldn't remember a time when Medice hadn't been at court. "Lady Angelica," he said, turning to the girl. "We have to fix your brother. It isn't something that you should see."

"I don't want to go out by myself," she said nervously.

"You can wait in the antechamber," Kurt said, but Angelica shook her head frantically, eyes fearful.

"I'll wait with her," Kova offered, surprising Kurt. She looked at Kurt and then nodded at Blaine. "Can we…?"

"Can you all wait outside?" Kurt asked the other three. "It'll just be a moment. I can take it from here, Laqueus, thank you." Kurt grabbed the bloody rag that the junior healer had been using to clean up his face with.

"Just a moment," Medice said. "We're still pressed for time." Kurt nodded, and Medice, Laqueus, and Angelica left the room, leaving only Blaine, Kurt, and Kova.

With only the three of them in the silent room, Blaine's labored breathing became more obvious. Surprising Kurt again, Kova walked right up to him and sat on the side of his bed. Blaine stared up at her, a question in his pained eyes. "They really are amber," Kova commented.

"W-who," Blaine struggled.

"Shh," Kurt whispered, moving to the other side of the bed and placing his hand softly against the side of Blaine's face. "This is Kova. I've told you about her."

Kova's head snapped toward him quizzically, but returned to Blaine when he spoke again. "Kova," he whispered. With a shaking hand, he reached out and took one of hers. He brought it, clasped in his, toward his heart. "Y-you're…K-Kova. Th-thank you."

"My pleasure," Kova said softly. If Kurt hadn't known better, and he thought that he did, he'd have sworn that the girl's eyes were over bright with held back tears. "I've heard a lot about you – wonderful things." She jerked her head toward Kurt. "This fool is totally, ridiculously in love with you, I'll have you know. It's actually sickening. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to bash his head against a tree because he wouldn't stop going on and on about how a distillation of your bodily fluids brings people back from the dead."

"I never said that," Kurt objected hotly, but he softened again almost immediately. Kova and Blaine were laughing together, Kova's rare and precious like tinkling bells and Blaine's pained and raspy, like a dying man's last breath.

"I should…start to cry a little then…shouldn't I?" Blaine said, looking up at her.

Kova shook her head. "No. Because if there's one thing I learned about Kurt, it's that he will fight to the death for what he loves and for what's right. Fighting for you is both of those things." Kurt blinked at her. She didn't sound like Kova. Of course, she didn't realize the double meaning her words had for him.

"Looks like he's already been fighting," Blaine said, glancing at Kurt, who hadn't taken his hand off of Blaine's cheek.

"We had to fight through an army to get this," Kova said, as if she couldn't believe that Blaine didn't know that. "So it _has_ to work, or else all of that would have been for nothing." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Blaine's forehead. "I feel like I know you," she continued. "But I don't, not at all. Maybe one day I can. Promise?"

"I promise," Blaine said.

"Good." She looked over at Kurt and smiled. "You two really love each other…don't you?"

Kurt nodded, and Blaine spoke: "More than one life can accommodate," he said, "which is my only consolation."

"Well, if you die now, I'm murdering you in our next lives for leaving Kurt alone," Kova said, not without a tone of kindness in spite of her harsh words.

Blaine gasped out a chuckle. "That sounds more like the Kova Kurt spoke of. I was beginning to wonder if it was really you."

She looked at him for a moment longer, and then stood. "I should get into the antechamber with Angelica so they can heal you," she said. "I'm better for having met you, Blaine, however briefly."

"However briefly," Blaine repeated weakly. "Yes." Kova looked for a moment as if she wanted to take it back, but instead she turned and hurried out of the bedroom.

"That was a lot of emotion for her in one sitting," Kurt said, looking after her. "I think she was feeling overwhelmed."

"I like her," Blaine said. "I'm glad you had her when you…were with them." He leaned into Kurt's hand. "Last kiss?"

Kurt learned forward hurriedly, for the others might re-enter at any moment, and pressed his lips to Blaine's gently. "No it isn't," he responded as he leaned away. "This will work."

Medice and Laqueus entered a moment later, after Kurt had returned to work cleaning off his face, which was almost devoid of old blood, although the scratches from Lord Ander's fingernails were still bleeding. "How did you get those?" Medice asked. "Laqueus, biind them up, will you?"

"I fell down the stairs," Kurt lied as Laqueus pressed a bandage over his head wounds.

"That's what they all say," Laqueus said dryly. "The good news is that these are nothing serious. Head wounds bleed a lot. They seem worse than they are. I can't say the same about that lovely black eye, though."

"Back to important things," Kurt said pointedly.

"You're important," Blaine said from the bed. Kurt didn't grace him with a response.

Medice had already started working silently. "Someone should be in any moment with the water," he said. He set about arranging his tools. Kurt couldn't watch it. They looked like instruments of torture, or war.

A minute later, two servants entered carrying a large bucket of steaming water. "Set it here," Medice instructed them. They set it by Blaine's bedside and left when Medice waved them away. "It's hot," he warned Blaine, who nodded. Medice lifted the sheet away from Blaine, and Kurt saw that while he had been gone, they had gotten Blaine ready. He was set up in a cocoon of towels to absorb the water.

Medice dipped towels into the water and cleaned away the area surrounding the wound itself. Blaine hissed when they touched his skin, which was red and angry, and veined with darker lines. That done, he filled a smaller cup from the bucket, and poured it directly over Blaine's wound. Water tinted with red soaked into the towels.

"I'm f-fine," Blaine said through gritted teeth. "W-what next?"

"The worst part, I'm afraid," Medice said. He took a smooth wooden stick, about six inches long and as thick as a thumb. He held it toward Blaine's face. "Bite," he instructed. "We want you to still have a tongue after this."

Blaine loosed a shaky breath and closed his eyes. "K-Kurt," he said, looking over at him. He held out a hand, palm up, on top of his sheets. "Please." Kurt looked to Medice, who nodded in approval. He went hesitantly to Blaine's side and took his hand gingerly. Blaine's grip was immediately strong. With his free hand, he took the stick and placed it between his teeth. "Ready." His voice was muffled, but the word was clearly distinguishable.

Medice took a sharp, thin blade from his set of instruments, and dunked it in the boiled water. He leveled it to the wound. Kurt knew what he was going to do. Medice had told him earlier that day, before he had left. In spite of that, Kurt wasn't prepared when he sunk the blade into a section of grey flesh. Blood immediately pooled, and Laqueus was there to soak it up.

Blaine's entire body convulsed and a muffled scream came from behind the stick in his mouth. His free hand balled at his side and rose halfway, as if instinct was telling him to push Medice away but his brain was fighting it. The one holding Kurt gripped down tightly, hard enough to bruise.

"Keep his hands away," Medice warned. "Stop him from moving. Legs and arms, Kurt. Hurry."

"I'm sorry," Kurt choked out. Feverish amber eyes followed him as he adjusted himself so that Blaine's legs were pinned down by his knees and his wrists by Kurt's hands. "I'm sorry, Blaine." He could feel Blaine's arms and legs trying to pull free of him but Kurt kept his ground and didn't let Blaine move. He didn't take his eyes from Blaine's. His gaze was like a lifeline connecting them, always there when Blaine's sight returned to him. Blaine would press his eyes closed tightly and look up at the ceiling and to Medice, but he always returned to Kurt, who didn't look away.

Kurt knew that Medice was still working by his side, cutting away the dead, infected skin that would never recover and would only reverse the poultice's effectiveness. He didn't look to the wound site again. He told himself that it was to provide Blaine with silent support, but he recognized his own lie. If this was Blaine's last moment, Kurt didn't want his last memory of him to be him looking at the wound that had killed him. Kurt wanted it to be of him looking directly into Blaine's eyes, and nowhere else. Nowhere else mattered.

He lost track of time as Medice worked. Blaine increasingly lost strength. Soon, his struggles were weak, ineffective, and intermittent. Eventually, he stopped struggling but for a periodic tensing up. His eyes fluttered, and his gaze lost focus. When his jaw loosened and the stick fell from them, and his eyes closed altogether, Kurt was still pinning his legs and arms and waiting for them to open again.

"Medice," he said in panic. "Wh-what is this? Why is…why…he's not…" Kurt couldn't move. His eyes had welled with tears, which dripped onto Blaine's bare chest. Denial sat deep in his heart, preventing his panic.

Medice glanced up at Blaine. "Finally," he breathed in relief. Kurt's whole body tensed. He had just decided that it would be ethically sound to hit an old man in this instance when Medice spoke again. "Don't worry, Your Highness. He's just passed out. He held out for a long time. I imagine that it's a product of his pain tolerance due to his knighthood. I had rather hoped that he would lose consciousness when I first started, but there's nothing to be done now."

Relief coursed through him such that Kurt thought he must actually be experiencing what it felt like to melt. He slid off of the bed and to his feet on the floor once more. "In moments of great pain," Medice explained. "The body shuts itself off. Pain is a defense mechanism, you know. We are, after all, only animals. Pain tells us when we're in danger of losing our lives. But eventually pain will grow so great that self-preservation will turn itself off, so that we don't have to feel it any longer. Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Fascinating," Kurt repeated weakly, feeling ill. The rags and cloths on the right side of the bed, opposite of him, were tinted red, although Blaine himself was relatively free of blood. Kurt could now see the progress Medice had made. The wound was just a little bit bigger. It looked practically the same, but for the fact that the sickly and soggy looking grey and purple flesh was gone, exposing light pink underneath. Kurt had to applaud the old man.

"That's it," Medice said. He set down the blade, gently dabbed away the little bit of blood surrounding the skin, and picked up the large bottle. With a soft piece of cloth, he scooped up some of the poultice and applied it to Blaine's newly clean wound. A layer formed, he applied another thin layer to a strip of bandage and began to bind the wound.

Another minute later, the rags were cleared away to be replaced by clean ones, and Blaine looked nothing like he had just undergone a surgery. "We'll begin giving him this when he wakes," Medice said, indicating the powder. Old rags in hand, Laqueus left the room to dispose of them.

"When will that be?"

"I couldn't say for sure. It may be an hour, or it may well be this afternoon."

Kurt nodded recognition to Medice's answer. "So you know then," Kurt said. "About…about Kova's people?"

"Leigheas told me everything," Medice affirmed. "It was rather unwise to send it all in a letter, but then again, she always was willing to risk herself for what she believed was right."

Kurt had a million questions he wanted to ask Medice about how he had known Alku, but he bit them all back in favor of the only important one there was. "You'll keep their secret, won't you? You won't tell anyone that they're here? They would be killed if David knew, you know they would."

Medice was silent for a moment. "I won't tell anyone. Their secret is safe with me, Your Highness."

"Will you ever just call me Kurt?"

Medice smiled and shook his head. "You'll have to keep reminding me until the day I die," he said. "I'll watch over Blaine. You have places to be, don't you?"

"A few," Kurt said, standing up. "I'll be back later." With Medice there, he couldn't say to Blaine what he wanted to, but he looked at him and hoped that somehow he would receive the wish. Wish sent, he turned to the healer. "Thank you, Medice." The old man nodded, and Kurt left the room.

In the antechamber, Angelica and Kova sat next to one another. Kurt nodded as he entered. "He's alright," he confirmed.

"Can I see him?" Angelica asked quickly.

"I don't see why not," Kurt said, hurrying toward the door. "Go ahead, Angie. Kova?"

The older girl surged forward, but not before her hand slipped over Angelica's and lingered for a moment. As she pulled away, Kurt saw Angelica's fingers wrap around a slip of paper. He didn't say anything about it, but let Angelica go into Blaine's room.

"What was that?" he asked as soon as she had gone.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kova drawled, exiting into the hallway.

"_That_, what you just did. What was it? She's not a minion."

Kova scoffed. "I won't start a fight," she said, eyes appraising. "You look better. Happier."

"I am," Kurt replied.

"Though you still look like you've been pulverized by a hammer," she added.

Kurt shook his head, bemused. "Aren't you going to threaten me with some horrible torture if I ever tell anyone how kind you were to Blaine?"

"No," she responded quickly. "That's one thing I'm not ashamed of."

A moment of silent understanding passed between them as they traversed the halls back to the ground floor. They passed through Catalina's kitchen and out into the back gardens. "Town is that way," Kurt said, pointing. "They don't stop people who are on their way out."

Kova nodded and took off the cloak. She extended it to Kurt, but when he reached out to grab it, she grabbed his wrist, twisted, and pulled him into an arm lock. "Where did you learn _that_?" Kurt asked, half-impressed.

"There's still a lot about me that you don't know, Your Highness," she said. "What is this?" Her fingers ran around his wrist.

Kurt pulled his arm away half-heartedly, and when it didn't budge, he pulled with more force. "Let _go_ of me. I don't want to have to hurt you."

"Tell me what it is," she pressed. "You're not the only one with one. People in town had them. What does it mean? Is it going to get you _killed_, Kurt? Because if anyone's going to kill you, I want it to be me, so you had better just give me warning so I can do it now and sleep at night."

"Let _go_." With a quick twist born from professional training, Kurt was out of Kova's grip and had her arms pinched behind her back. "I'll let you go, but don't attack me again…alright?"

"Fine," she said from between gritted teeth. He released her and she backed up, rubbing her wrists. "You're not going to tell me?"

"You're obviously not ready to know," Kurt answered, calm once more. "Are you staying here? Around Lima?" She didn't answer. "If you are, if you become ready, you'll know." She opened her mouth to protest but Kurt cut her off. "This isn't the wilderness, Kova, with a bunch of bandits hunting to stay alive with nothing more complex to analyze than deer tracking patterns. This is the royal court, and we do a whole different kind of hunting here. You don't get to know our secrets overnight, just like I didn't know yours."

Reluctantly, the girl nodded. "I'm a fast learner," she promised.

Kurt smiled, although it wasn't from happiness. "I know you are."

"I really do want Blaine to live," she said.

"I know."

"If he does, I'll hear about it."

Kurt's grin grew. "You are staying then?"

"Not where you can see me or where anyone can find us," she said. "I'm too invested in you by this point. I can't leave you now."

"That's good to hear." She moved toward him with arms outstretched.

Kurt rubbed her back as she pulled away. He didn't know what else there was to say, so he only nodded. She returned the gesture and left, without another word. For a long while, Kurt stood there. He stared after Kova as she walked away, and he stared at her long after she'd vanished from his view entirely. Eventually, he sunk down and sat on the ground. With no one around to see, Kurt lowered his head into his hands and cried.

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><p><em>AN: I was seriously considering studying medicine for about four months, until I took calculus and chemistry, whereupon I ran crying back to what I'm actually good at, which is manipulating the written and spoken word. I watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy. That's the extent of my experience with medicine. If anyone has any better way for me to write the surgery, I pray, give me information and I'll try to make it better. _

_This chapter was Kurt's "look-at-me-I-can-be-a-badass" chapter. He didn't seem happy, in my mind, that Blaine was the one doing all the fighting lately. He's a fighter too! So he had his moments. Poor Angie though, the dear has seen and heard things no twelve year old should have. I hope you guys enjoyed how all the inter-character connections played out this chapter! I adore writing Kova still; she's built like a bird but she is FIERCE._

_Leave me a note and let me know what you think about things where they stand! Thanks for reading!_


	28. Chapter 28 :: An Old Friend

_A/N: *ahem* SO, methinks it's explanation time! It's actually quite simple: in addition to working about 8 hours every day, I have had absolutely NO internet this summer, besides that what's on my phone, which really only comfortably allows for some things. Which meant no/minimal tumblr, no access to messages on here, and no ability to post new chapters to my beloved brain baby ;_; That said, I'm back now! Woohoooo*threecheers*_

_If anyone still even has any interest in this after such a while, let me know and that'd be awesome because I really do love it, and I hope you guys still do too! I can only say that not having internet was extremely painful and knowing there might be people out there expecting chapters and being continuously disappointed was even worse D: _

_That said, enjoy my lovelies! _

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><p><em>Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

Kurt knew that up in the castle, Alku's poultice was either working or not. He was currently lying on his back in the grass, in the gardens outside of the kitchen. He hadn't moved from the place he had fallen after Kova left. The prince had sat on his knees, lain on his side, curled his knees to his chest, and now he had finally settled flat on his back. Kurt stared up at the blue, blue sky. The sun was causing an intense glare and yet Kurt didn't blink. He kept his eyes open wide until he couldn't stand it anymore – until they were painful and dry and watering all at once. He blinked then, and saw stars. Fire materialized underneath his eyelids as they stung and burned. After a moment of fire and darkness, he opened his eyes and repeated the process until he was interrupted.

"Kurt?" The young man sat up self-consciously and lifted a hand to his face to wipe away the tears at the corners of his abused eyes. "What are you doing?" It was a voice Kurt was familiar with, but one he hadn't heard in a long time. He hadn't been avoiding her per se – they'd spoken not long before he left for war, and immediately after that he'd gone to Westerville, had been taken by the Raju, and was just now back at court since leaving for Lithuania. If he was being honest, he hadn't wished to see her. She represented a part of his life when he was in denial about who he was, and when he was trying to live as someone he was not.

Contrarily, Kurt was as glad as he could be to hear her voice now. She also represented a simpler time, a time without tyranny and revolution. "Brittany," he addressed her, trying to struggle to his feet. His limbs were weak and unsteady. "I'm sorry. You caught me at a…at a…"

"Don't get up," she said quickly, moving toward him. She crouched and sat down next to him, her skirts blossoming outwards like the flowers in the bouquet she held in her hands. "I saw you lying here, and I picked these for you."

In spite of himself, a smile slowly slid onto Kurt's lips. "From the Queen's Gardens?"

"Mhmm," she murmured. She picked a particularly ornate flower from the bunch and twirled its stem in between her fingers. Slowly, almost intimately, she leaned over to Kurt and tucked it behind his ear, as she had done so many years ago before his and David's own duel. Her hand lingered on the side of his face, and Kurt had to fight the urge to push it away. "I heard what happened."

"Did you?" Kurt asked tightly.

"Yes," she said. Her hand moved away from his face and traced down his arm to his own hand. "You got taken by a troupe of barbarians." She laced her fingers with his.

"They aren't barbarians," Kurt said defensively. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to be patient. Sometimes, Brittany's intelligence levels were taxing. She wasn't even talking about what was plaguing everyone else's mind.

"That's what David calls them," she said easily.

"Do you spend a lot of time listening to what David tells you?"

"I don't have a choice," she said, without inflection. Kurt looked up at her curiously. Her gaze was open and unassuming. "His elect must attend the Festival of the King twice a week in the Great Hall."

"The _ Festival_ _of the King?_" Kurt asked incredulously. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Festival was an old, barbaric tradition that hadn't been practiced for two generations, and had been officially outlawed by King Paul immediately after his coronation. "Why have I never been to one of these?"

"Perhaps you haven't been back long enough," Brittany mused. "Or perhaps," her gaze flicked up to him, sharper than he had ever seen it, "you aren't one of the elect."

"I'm the heir to the throne," Kurt said slowly. "I'm one of the elect by law."

"The king makes the law," Brittany continued.

Kurt scoffed and drew his hand away. "When is the next one of these?"

"Two days," Brittany replied. She moved closer to him and began to wind an arm around his shoulders.

"Stop, please," Kurt said, rolling away and up to his feet. "Brittany…things can't be how they were when I left." Her brow dipped in confusion. "You and I can't be…how we were. Do you understand?"

"I understand, but not _why_."

Kurt shrugged hopelessly. "A lot happens in three years. That's…that's how long I've been gone."

She was silent for a moment, and then she nodded. "A lot does change," she said quietly.

Feeling almost bad about how he had spoken to her, Kurt removed the flower from behind his ear and held it out to her. "Changing doesn't mean forgetting, though," he said cautiously. She wasn't someone he could trust with the secret of the revolution, Kurt knew that. But perhaps he could make her remember that he had always been on her side. "Do you remember when we first met? You gave me a flower then, too."

"I remember," she said with a small smile. "You wore it while you were shooting. You lost to David, didn't you?" After an uneasy moment, Kurt nodded. "But it wasn't your fault. You got distracted by that boy…the one who's injured now."

"That's right," Kurt whispered, trying not to read too far into her words.

Brittany nodded seriously. Suddenly, a cheery laugh escaped her. "Do you remember the first time you kissed me?" she asked, still chuckling. "It was like kissing a wall. You didn't know how to do it at all."

Kurt felt color fill his cheeks and he rolled his eyes dramatically. He tried to bite back a laugh, but one escaped him nonetheless. "I learned," he pointed out quickly. "Thanks to you." He held out a hand to help her to her feet.

Brittany took it and pulled herself up. "I'm glad I came up to you," she told him. "I almost didn't. You looked sad, like you wanted to be left alone."

"No, I'm glad you did. Do I look sad anymore?"

Brittany surveyed him intensely for a few moments. "Yes," she decided. "You've looked sad ever since you got back to court." Kurt worried his bottom lip, but Brittany didn't seem to notice how her words had affected him. "Will I see you at the Festival?"

"You will," Kurt said. The woman smiled and began to move away. "Don't tell anyone though," he called after her. "It'll be a surprise." Brittany nodded enthusiastically and continued walking. Kurt's eyes followed her until she disappeared around a corner. The Festival of the King – there hadn't been one in the Alganian area for at least a century. What Kurt knew about it came from history books. Before now, it had been acknowledged as an uncivilized shadow cast upon their past. Kurt had never thought much of it, but now that it had come into their present it seemed to pose a clear and present danger. It was another aspect of Dave's monopoly on ownership of the court, another threat.

It was also one more thing he had to take up with Sam and Noah. They'd kept the news of the rebellion from him, and now they had kept this as well. It begged the question of what else they were shielding him from. They were no longer at a place where secrets could be kept between the three of them – four once Blaine was well. He planned on taking it up with the former immediately.

As he started to walk into the castle, his legs felt numb. When he had been lying down outside, he had merely felt weak. He'd finally _let_ himself be weak. He didn't dare do such a thing in front of any person. Now more than ever, with Blaine decommissioned and the weight of the lives of many people as well as the country riding on his shoulders, he needed to be only strong. But in the privacy of his own company, Kurt could feel the toll it had taken over even such a short amount of time.

Back in the castle, his lack of feeling stood in lieu of what was unwanted. Fleetingly, he imagined what it would be like to run away. Running away was a concept he had hardly deigned to consider. Even when he'd gone to Westerville, he had known the entire time that he would inevitably return to court. To run away entirely, to a country that didn't know him – perhaps the ones to the east, from which they got their silks and spices from, or to the north, where barbarian tribes thrived on warrior strength – was a concept that sent him into fascinated imaginings.

It was the coward's way out though, and not an option. What would become of those whom he left? He would leave with Blaine, but left behind would be his father, his aunt, Sam, Noah, and dozens of other friends and allies. He shuddered to think what would become of them if they were discovered in the light of Kurt's flight.

Imagine as he might, there was really only one direction, and that was forward with their only plan. Thus, Kurt continued on numb legs through the castle, into the kitchen, through a servants' corridor, and out through another side door. From there, he snuck across the grounds, careful to draw no notice to himself. It wasn't as difficult as he might have thought it would be at one time. Years ago, dressed in vibrant silks of red and purples, Kurt went out of his way to draw attention to himself. A country at peace had nothing better to do than dote upon him and follow his every move. Now, muted colors graced his figure unless he was in a formal occasion, of which he hadn't been at many since his return. A country of tension, on the brink of unrest, no longer looked toward him. Instead, they watched David, eyes wary.

He reached the stables unnoticed. He crept into the wooden building, light on his toes. All was quiet within, initially indicating that Sam wasn't present, but as he continued on through the building, he heard a rush of whispered voices. Curiosity growing, he silently approached. On the far side of the stables was an extended loft reachable by a ladder, which he could now see had been pulled on top of the loft so no one could climb up. His first instinct was that it was Sam. Often enough, he had come around with bits of hay sticking out of his matching hair. Kurt had always laughed and plucked them out while Sam, blushing, admitted to falling asleep in the hay loft.

As he reached the base of the loft, his suspicion was confirmed. The voice was definitely Sam. In spite of himself, Kurt smiled at the image of Sam working while muttering to himself. In the next moment though, his smile was wiped away. A second voice was answering Sam, a female one.

Breath bated, he backed away from the opening on the bottom of the loft and pressed himself up against a wall to listen.

Sam was speaking once more. "…sick. I know you say we shouldn't worry, but…I wonder." His voice got even quieter and Kurt strained to listen. He knew he should walk away. Sam was obviously having a heartfelt conversation. If he had wanted to have it with Kurt, he would have. That was Sam's way. He was blunt and untactful. It was why Kurt and he had fought before Kurt left for Westerville. Those very traits were also what kept Kurt there. If he didn't want Kurt to know, he never would unless he stayed now. "I wonder what would happen to him if Blaine doesn't…if he doesn't make it."

"You've known him twice as long as Blaine has," a fierce voice responded. Kurt was so startled upon realizing who it was that he almost gasped out loud. At the very last moment, he caught himself. Slowly, he lifted a hand and pressed it tightly over his own mouth. "It would be tragic, yes, but Kurt has been through so many things. It would hardly be the worst of it." It was with an absurd and misplaced relief that Kurt realized Mercedes' words meant that Sam hadn't told her just how deeply his and Blaine's relationship ran.

"You _know_ it can never be the same," Sam whispered in return, his voice much quieter than his companion's. "We've always known that. It's just part of the way things are. One day, a noble would come in and his relationship with us would never be its equal."

Mercedes made an unconvinced sound. Kurt heard Sam let out a low chuckle. "What? _What?_" Following Sam's questions, delivered in a teasing tone, he heard a rustle of clothes, muffled movements, and a female voice giggling.

"You can't take things seriously for just one second, can you?" asked Mercedes, sounding strangely breathless.

"I can when I need to." Sam's voice was thick and sensual. Kurt was slowly processing what was going on when a quiet moan shoved him abruptly into the right conclusion. Heart now pounding – Sam and Mercedes…_Sam and Mercedes?_ – Kurt tried to creep out of the stables as quietly as he had come in.

Once outside, he leaned against the doorway, breathing heavily. He was inclined to think that he had just imagined the entire thing. The idea that Sam and Mercedes were _lovers_, when they had both been two of his best friends for so long, was almost unthinkable. But why shouldn't they be, a rational part of him argued. They did need to have a life outside of him. They did have plenty in common. In all honesty, Kurt actually thought that the two of them would probably be a perfect couple.

Suddenly, all of those times that Sam had come out of the loft with hay in his hair made perfect sense. He hadn't been sleeping at all. It meant that what was between Sam and Mercedes had been going on for years, far longer than he and Blaine had been lovers. In all that time, Kurt was left to wonder, why had they never told him? Even as Sam had been trying to wheedle a confession out of him in regards to having feelings for Blaine, he had never bothered to confess his own feelings for Mercedes.

At the same time, Kurt wondered how much of that was his fault. They were twenty-one years old and yet in all of that time, Kurt had never thought to ask Sam about who he had taken an interest in or admired from afar. He had always told himself that he had never engaged Sam in traditional male talk about the castle's women because the castle's women had never held any appeal to him, but was it actually just his own ignorance?

Fed up with thinking himself to death, Kurt turned back to the stables. Instead of slipping quietly through the slightly opened door as he had done before, he threw the door open. It banged against the wooden wall inside, echoing all throughout the stables. Horses reared and whinnied. For a brief moment, Kurt heard quick, hushed voices. In the next, he saw Sam swing down from the loft and drop to his feet as deftly as a cat.

He grinned at Kurt as if nothing was wrong. "You scared me half to death," he said breathlessly, with a light chuckle. "I must have fallen asleep."

It was all Kurt could do to not roll his eyes. "I need to talk to you."

For just a moment, Sam looked worried. In the next, the sudden worry was replaced with a determined look. "If it's about Blaine, Kurt, I'm sure…"

"It's not about Blaine," he replied quickly. "I need to talk to you in private."

Brows drawn together in confusion, Sam nodded. "Whatever you say. Let's walk."

"Let's talk in here," Kurt interrupted. "I don't want to be heard by anyone outside. This is just for your ears."

Sam smiled, though Kurt thought he could see through it. "You look like you could use the air," he replied calmly. "You're pale, Kurt. Are you sure you're feeling alright? Perhaps we should go to your rooms. You can sit down and we can talk there."

"You know how the castle had been making me feel lately," Kurt replied stubbornly. He sat on a nearby barrel. "I can sit in here just as well as anywhere else. It's no wonder I'm pale, Sam. I come back, and as soon as I think I know enough to have caught up with a court that has continued to move in my absence, I find out one more thing that has been kept from me." He turned up his eyes to return Sam's gaze directly.

The stable boy looked uneasy. Slowly, he nodded. "Fine, let's just…let's just go outside."

Without another word, Kurt stood and marched out of the stables, Sam's footsteps falling right behind him. As soon as they were outside, Sam started to speak. "You know," he said quickly. "I didn't think it was a secret that would last forever, but I always imagined that you had too much on your plate to care. I would have told you when you got back, but then all of this happened. It hardly seemed important compared to everything else."

"Everything else," Kurt repeated. He was _right_ of course, which was the maddening part. "Speaking of that…"

"I _am_ sorry," Sam said. He did sound genuine about it. There were only a few things Kurt could be certain of these days, but the fact that Sam was loyal and true would always be one of them.

"Later," Kurt said, waving a hand in dismissal. He would love to talk about nothing more than secrets and lovers and summer wines, as he might have once, but they no longer held the same importance they once did. "The Festival of the King." His eyes turned to make contact with Sam's as they began to walk. "Do tell."

Sam paled. "I've never been," he said quietly, the whisper coming out in a choked hush. "No same group of knights is consecutively, let alone anyone common. Noah has been in favor before, sporadically as is everyone else but a few. David commands attention in a throne at the room's head, I hear, and he turns people away or accepts them at the door. If the mood has taken him, he'll even turn down those he has sent express summons to."

"What you're saying," Kurt said slowly, "is that he does whatever pleases him whenever it pleases him."

Sam nodded. "Whores and revelry, wine and mead and meat all abound. It's a Godless gathering, and fewer men leave than come." He looked gravely at Kurt, who understood his meaning.

"Perhaps my presence is overdue at one of these."

"No," Sam said immediately. "It need not concern you, which is why we didn't mention it. It's a night of folly and tyranny, where the king is more foolish by two than is usual and the night hasn't been successful if there aren't two drunken killings before dawn."

"A choice place for loose tongues," Kurt argued. He wouldn't make a debate of it. Something in his tone must have relayed that to Sam, for the blonde didn't put forth another argument. Doubtless he would redouble his efforts later with the aid of Noah, but Kurt would not yield to him either. He would watch this Festival of the King firsthand, and hopefully the result would be that he saw even more.

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><p><em>AN: I didn't want to bore you guys with this at the beginning, this way you can skip over it easier if you want. It appears that in my absence this amazing idea of STORY COVERS has come to fruition?! HOLY COW! :D Not going to lie, I kind of seriously maybe sorta want one of those ;) If anyone, er, *ahem* has the skill set to make that happen, I'd love you forever and of course give you all the credit in the world! :D I literally have no idea how they work/what you're able to squeeze into them, but if faces I had in mind for OCs/any other info from me is needed, I can obviously make that happen too!_


	29. Chapter 29 :: The Hand of Friendship

_A/N: Still no internet which means updates will be sporadic for the next few weeks perhaps. Sorry guys, but I'm doing my best! This one is a happy one, so enjoy!_

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><p>Kurt didn't return to the castle after he parted with Sam, but instead he turned toward the city. There were many things he had learned since Blaine had been injured, but the foremost was that the many aspects of life and livelihood would not pause, even if someone you loved was hanging in the balance. He could not ignore other affairs in favor of hovering beside Blaine, and the position of the sun as well as the tolling of temple bells told him that he was needed elsewhere.<p>

He made his way to the Farmer's District, which was a halfway point to his final destination. A letter had come only two days ago detailing what he needed to do there. He still had the cloak he had lent to Kova, and he wore it now, disguising his identity. He walked slowly through the carts and small stores filled with greenery, and finally stopped at a rose cart.

"A rose as black as night," he said, carefully touching the stem of a large, black rose. "A sad flower, perhaps more fit for a funeral than a cart such as this." He was speaking to a woman next to him. Kurt had never seen her before, but she looked like nothing he had ever seen. Her hair was a whiter blonde than even Sam and Daphne's, its hue rivaled only by her pale skin. When she looked at him, he saw that her face was made up of sharp planes and angles, and her eyes were as fierce and grey as flint.

"Ah, but whose funeral?" When she spoke, it was in a voice as smooth as cream and accented heavily, though from where, Kurt couldn't have said, even though he was sure he recognized it. "Such an elegant flower, it seems only fit for a lord."

"Or a king," Kurt finished. He held out his elbow, and she threaded her arm through his. Their scripted transaction was finished. Her letter had, coded, listed out the conversation to be held upon their meeting. Who she was, Kurt didn't know. He had to have confidence in the people who had arranged their meeting.

He was surprised when she continued to speak. "The black," she said. "I think it makes the red stand out all the better, don't you, Your Highness?"

Kurt was startled both that she knew who he was and that she would dare use his title in the city. "Black and red," he said carefully, "darkness and bloodshed."

"Or death and lifeblood," she returned quickly. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, finally."

"I would say the same, but you've been quiet about what information it is that you hold."

She smiled. "You'll know soon enough, won't you?"

After that, Kurt didn't say anything. Together, they made their way farther through the town. They made their way to the Market District and ducked into a small but clean bakery. It was surprisingly crowded for such a small place, the patrons drawn in by the enticing, rich smell and cozy look of the place. Kurt, with the woman on his arm, weaved through the throng to the counter.

"Master Scarlet," said a booming voice from behind the counter. The man the voice came from was as tall as a knight, and heavily muscled with broad shoulders stretching out the leather jerkin he wore over a thin shirt, as white as the flour which coated his hands and arms. His red hair, sticking up in all directions with no semblance of care, and the abundance of freckles on his cheeks were also dusted in a fine white layer.

"Good day, Juvo," Kurt murmured, his voice lowered to a pitch very unlike his own. It was uncomfortable, but necessary. His own voice was too distinctive to use safely. "I smelt your shop all the way from Upper Ivory."

Juvo grinned, a jovial, secret grin that seemed to be for the recipient alone. Kurt knew that it was due to the fact that Juvo knew how different Master Scarlet was from his true identity, but he couldn't help but feel like the other boy took the entire thing as a joke. When he had shared his reservations with Aurem, he had been met with the staunchest insistence that if there was anyone she knew he could trust it was her own family, and as Aurem's son, Juvo was foremost among that group.

"We've new spices from the east. I'd feel much better in using them if I know they have your seal of approval, Master. Shall I see you and your lady to the backroom?"

Kurt had almost forgotten that the mystery woman was still by his side, her arm in his. She was light on her feet, and made no noise either in breath or step. He nodded at Juvo though, who called for a shop assistant to see to the front room in his brief absence.

"You're late," Juvo said, smile still in place as he looked between Kurt and the woman. "Get…held up?"

"You dishonor your lord with your assumptions," the woman said stiffly before Kurt could reply. "It is for his people that he risks his life." Her hard, flint eyes bored into the jovial baker, making his perpetual smile fade. As Kurt watched their transaction, he found that he liked the mystery woman just a little bit better.

Juvo didn't say anything else as they made their way to the backroom, but the woman smiled placidly the entire way. They passed sacks of flour, large stone ovens, and jars of seasonings and ornaments. The bakery was tucked into a stone building in a crowded street, thus there was no backdoor. It ended in a solid brick wall, in front of which Juvo shoved aside a large pile of stacked supplies and boxes to reveal a faint outline of unmatched boards. "They're inside, waiting," Juvo said.

Upon Kurt's nod, the boy turned as if to leave. Half facing away, he spoke. "I meant no harm," he said quickly. "By saying…well. I meant no harm, Your Highness. I only meant to have fun. Truly, we know what it is you do. There are whispers of it in the streets both near and far."

"Think not of it," Kurt said, surprised that the woman's rebuke had garnered such a reaction from the young baker. Juvo smiled, almost nervously, and began to walk.

"I think you frightened him," Kurt commented lightly to the woman, who was still smiling her calm smile.

"If a man is not frightened now of all times, then he has no wisdom."

To that, Kurt could formulate no rebuke, so instead he asked, "Who _are_ you?"

Though he hadn't been expecting an answer, he was disappointed with hers nonetheless. "Your people wait for us, Your Highness."

The prince took a small, hard sheet of metal from the ground – thin enough to slip between the boards under his feet, and strong enough to withstand the pressure he was about to put on it. It slipped between the unmatched boards easily, and with a bit of force applied, the boards loosened and popped up, to reveal a hollow space underneath a trap door.

Kurt swung down and landed softly on his feet, crouching for a moment and letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. When he was able to make out the vague shapes of the walls, he straightened, ready to hold out a hand to the woman. He looked up to see no one.

A voice spoke near his elbow: "Lead the way, Your Highness."

Kurt spun around to see the woman standing right behind him. "H-how did you…I didn't…"

She smiled her small, benign smile once more and didn't speak. In spite of his growing confusion and intrigue, Kurt merely nodded politely and began to lead the way. The small passage was dark and narrow, but over the last couple weeks he had come to know it well.

"Light," he said, pointing ahead to a faint glow that originated around a sharp corner. "Not much farther, my lady."

She moved by his side, as quiet as a cat and as inconspicuously as a shadow. When they turned the corner, the light grew stronger. The passage led them into a vast hall from which at least a dozen other passages originated. Kurt knew that they led to other houses and businesses. There was even one that led into the castle. Aurem had explained to him that most passages led to her allies, and therefore his. The ones that led to enemies or those of unknown allegiance had been blocked off from the inside. If they even knew of the passages existence, they would follow it to the blockage and hopefully think that there had been a cave-in over the years.

Though the passage had been nothing but old stone, the hall itself was more ornate. Faded and chipping murals adorned the walls, complete with scenes depicting history from farther back than Kurt had learned of – from before his ancestors had ruled. A large table filled up one part of the room, but the people inside sat instead on wood benches that had been brought in only recently.

They all looked up when the pair entered, rising to their feet in respect. Aurem was there, as well as Finn, Daphne, Noah, and a few others who Kurt had come to know. It had been Aurem who informed Kurt that there was a message for him – an instruction to meet in the Farmer's District – but she seemed just as surprised at the sight of the woman as he had been.

"Yer 'ighness," Aurem said, standing straight as he entered. Kurt waved a hand in acknowledgement, and she visibly relaxed. "And m'lady…" She looked at the woman expectantly.

"My time will come when the rest have said their peace," the woman said calmly.

"Forgive me…_my lady_," Noah said, making the formality sound more like a threat. "But we don't make it our business to reveal our plans to strangers who come to us in the night and do not even state their name or how they came to be here."

A strange look crossed her face, more of approval than annoyance. "Very well. My people call me the Master of Whispers, but you may call me Jadvyga. I came to know your purpose as I come to know all other things." A wide smile stretched across her face, and she spoke no further.

Noah's face had settled into a deep frown, and Kurt looked at him uncertainly. "We have invited you into our homes to hear your piece and you continue to speak in riddles," the knight said. "Where do you hail from and who do you speak for?"

Her face settled into seriousness. "What seems like ten years ago now, I made my home in Vilnius. I speak for all of my people."

The name of the town where they had won and ended the Algo-Lithuanian war had the entire room bristling. Kurt took a precautionary step backwards but Noah took several great bounds forward, hand wrapping around the hilt of his sword. "You come to us to destroy us," Noah said, his face twisting in rage. "You would see us all burn."

"I would not," Jadvyga snapped, her voice crisp. A beat of silence passed, and she continued. "You think me to be a northern heathen but you did not spend enough time in my country to know us at all. Now your king has left us with a foreign lord to rule us while he lays waste to the rest of this land with no intention of cleaning his messes and taking charge of the people left behind. We die in the streets, more every day, because of the ignorance he pays us with." She paused, her thin chest heaving with the passion of her words. "I may be a woman, but even women know how wars work – how an order falls on a man from his king." Her steely eyes looked at each person individually before turning to the next. "Mind your words, soldier, for I would not have you all burn. I would see just one."

Kurt surveyed her, blue eyes narrowed in analysis. "You would come all the way from your home to tell this to us?"

As if she had never made her speech, the cool smile was back on Jadvyga's face. "Hardly. The court in which I made my home is a court no longer." A faraway look crossed her pale face. "It ended when your king rode in, casting a long shadow over our hall – a shadow that never left. But the people are still there, and while we live we will fight. I came all this way to propose that we host this fight _together_."

"You must want something in return," Kurt said. "This alliance you propose surely comes with stipulations."

"Only that you leave us as we were before."

"I think you might be forgetting why our king was there in the first place," Kurt said. "An assassination attempt that unfortunately succeeded, or don't you remember?"

Jadvyga's flinty eyes gave away no emotion. "He who wishes to rule must change with the tides, not build a wall to hold them back."

Kurt pursed his lips together, but did not form a rebuke. He knew it would do no good. "We will confer on it," he said finally. "Until then, you may stay in town somewhere."

Graciously, she bowed her head and began to back out, into the dark corridor from which they came. Kurt nodded to one of the men sitting in the room. "See that she gets onto the street without any unwelcome detours." Once he was gone, the prince took a seat at an empty bench.

"I don't like her," Noah said immediately, finally sitting down next to Kurt. "They are our _enemies_. What aid could they possibly give us?"

"They could give us loyalty that the king doesn't have from his hired swords," Finn said.

"Loyalty until it doesn't suit them anymore," Noah snapped back. "They'll turn on us as soon as they fancy."

"We hold what they want," Kurt argued. "You heard her – they want their _home_ back. They'll never get it back while David is on the throne. Losing something dear puts old hatreds into perspective. I do believe we're the lesser of two evils." Noah looked at him and shook his head the smallest amount. "Let us hear what else has been happening. Then we can decide. Daphne, you first."

"Not much change to report," she said, speaking up for the first time since Kurt had entered the room. After hearing what Gemma had said about whom Noah and Blaine had outlined their plans to, he had carefully picked people from each tier of society to report back to him. They would act as both spy and planter of seeds. Daphne kept her ears out among the castle serving class, Aurem the civilians, Finn the merchants, and Noah the nobility. "Whispers, but as they live in the castle itself, they dare not whisper too loudly. Mostly, people are afraid."

Kurt sighed. That had been one of their biggest trials so far: finding that most people stayed obedient out of fear alone. "Fine, thank you, Daphne. If they do speak of it, let it be known that you are one to be receptive to many opinions. Aurem?"

"There was a riot las' nigh' in th' Warrior District," she said. "As one of them lords rode pas', 'bout two dozen flea bitten street urchins mobbed 'is 'orse." She spread her hands out across her lap and looked down at her fingers. "Ate tha' 'orse righ' there in front o' 'im."

"_Why_?" Kurt said, disgusted. "For the sake of mindless anarchy?"

"They see a youn' lord ridin' a strong 'horse and they see th' king." She shook her head. "This means more trouble fer you."

"No," Noah argued. "They see a pretentious ass wearing gold veined armor and they see the king. They see this," he pointed at Kurt, "and they see someone who knows them well enough to command their respect."

Aurem shrugged. "S'just wha' I saw, m'dear," she said kindly.

"Of course, Aurem," Kurt said. Both she and Noah had good points. Did the citizens know him and his intentions as well as he thought they did, or would they only see David's cousin? It was something to think about. "Finn?"

"Good news on this front," he said, grinning. "Merchant ships _loath_ the current trade situation. David's international policy mainly consists of burning and conquering. No one will deign to trade any longer with the country that rapes their women and kills their families. The merchant class earnings are starting to backslide. They bring in less and less with each passing day. They're already complaining of it and soon they will feel the sting of it. They know who to blame, and blame they do."

"A cut off of trade would ricochet around the country," Kurt mused. "The citizens here would be first ones to run out of food and the ability to buy more. We all know that all extra rations will go to keeping David happy and his Festivals going."

"People won't like that," Daphne said, a small smile playing across her lips.

"When the king needs money," Kurt said suddenly, an idea occurring to him. "Where does he borrow it from?"

"The City Treasury," Noah said quickly.

"And where does the City Treasure get its stores?"

Noah hesitated, and then a dawning look of realization came over his face. "It's a percentage of the trade income. Less trade income means less money for the Crown to draw on." He grinned at Kurt. "No money for the Crown means…"

"Nothing with which to pay the swords," Kurt finished. He smiled at Finn, who had indirectly been the bearer of all of that news. "He can increase his takings from the trade income for a while, but not for long. Brilliant, brilliant, _brilliant_!"

After their discussion of economics and trade, talk dwindled down. Kurt decided that he needed to sleep on the matter of the alliance – and perhaps talk to Sam and Noah about it in private – and he dismissed them. They left in staggered intervals out of their various passages, finally leaving only Aurem and Kurt exiting through her bakery.

"M'lord?" she asked as they closed the passage behind them and covered it up. "Blaine's recovery…'ow goes it?"

Kurt rubbed at his temple. "Rocky, but I suppose it could be worse. I…" He hesitated, unsure whether to tell her about Kova and her mother. He had never trusted so many people with so many of his secrets before. Just one of them, if they decided to tell, could ruin everything. He wanted at least one secret that he knew would be kept. "Medice found some medicine that he thinks will heal the infection. That actually reminds me of something I wanted to tell you." He stopped before they turned the corner to the front counter. "These red ribbons, are you sure they're _only_ being worn by allies?"

"Allies yes, but fer th' most par', in words on'y," she reminded him. "They'll be with us when th' time comes, but they don' know wha' we do 'ere. They don' know abou' you – on'y that there're powerful people with us."

"Right," Kurt said, thinking quickly for a minor lie he could use to his advantage. "There was…someone in the castle wearing the red. They didn't have any idea as to its meaning. They thought it was a fashion trend. I fear it will happen again."

Aurem smiled widely. "I 'ad a thought," she said. "Come – follow me." She left the backrooms and they slid into the crowded bakery unnoticed. They walked outside and up the street a bit, to a shop a few doors from Aurem's, though much less crowded. She leaned against the window next to the door frame and covertly pointed at something on the side of the frame. There, carved into the wood, were several ovals with an uncompleted one at the end.

"What is this?" Kurt asked, leaning closer. "Wait…a chain?"

"A broken chain," she clarified. "A symbol." She touched it with the tip of one finger. "People won' star' carvin' these out of fashion."

"Never out of good ideas, I see," he said, smiling at her. "I have to go back to the castle, but I'll tell Noah about these."

Aurem nodded, and Kurt began to walk back through the city once more. Their entire council had been less than an hour, but Kurt felt as if he had been away for days. Once out of the city, he found himself running across the hill and into the castle. When he reached the first set of stairs, he was already panting.

Halfway up, Angelica materialized at the top. "Kurt!" she exclaimed. "I was just heading down to the kitchens to see if they knew where you were! Come quickly!"

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked nervously, taking her hand and allowing himself to be pulled along. "Is it Blaine? Is he alright?"

"Just come _on_," she insisted, tugging on his arm. Kurt bit his lip and followed her at a quick pace.

They burst into Blaine's rooms, and Angelica tugged him toward the bed. Kurt stood in the doorway panting, trying to catch his breath and process what he was seeing at the same time. Blaine sat up in bed, straight up and alert, sipping from a large wooden cup. He looked up when the pair entered, and the look that crossed his face was enough to make Kurt's heart ache and fall in love all over again.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed, not sure of what else to say.

"Hello Kurt," he returned.

"Yes, yes, hello, hello," Angelica interrupted, pulling Kurt toward Blaine's bedside and then climbing up next to her brother. "Where's the healer, Blaine?"

"He stepped out for a moment to eat. Well…I made him step out." Blaine grinned guiltily. "Apparently, he hasn't eaten in more than a day." He turned his magnificent amber eyes to Kurt, who couldn't keep the sentimental smile off of his face at those familiar eyes turned on him so alertly. "Among others."

"Kurt and I have been too _busy_ to eat," Angelica continued. She carefully rested herself so that she was lying with Blaine side by side, on his uninjured side. She lifted an arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Secret things, but we worked _so_ hard to make you better and now here you are. You _are_ better."

Kurt beamed at the two of them. Blaine looked at him over his sister's head and grinned secretively. "Angie," Blaine said suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him. "I meant to ask him before he left but I forgot. When I woke up, I was _starving_, but Medice never mentioned if I was able to eat anything yet. Would you go ask him?"

She hopped to her feet and nodded frantically. "Anything, Blaine. Anything for you," she said, grinning ear to ear. She skipped out of the room, singing softly under her breath.

When Kurt heard the door close behind her, he quickly strode to Blaine's side and took one of his hands in both of his. "How do you feel?" he asked, sitting gingerly on the side of the bed. "You look good. You look _so_ good." He leaned over Blaine and carefully traced his fingers over his cheek. Blaine closed his eyes, and Kurt's fingers lightly skimmed over his thin eyelids. The tip of his finger brushed lightly along the edge of Blaine's bottom lip, his skin no longer parched and cracked but healthy and smooth.

"Do you plan on driving me crazy with those soft touches or are you going to kiss me anytime soon?" Blaine asked, his eyes opening and his lips widening in a smile.

"Oh, the latter," Kurt said softly, bending down. Breath bated, he paused just before their lips met, to savor the moment. Blaine was _alive_. Not only was he alive, but he was going to live. Whether or not Jadvyga's alliance succeeded or the trade economy affected civilian support of the king, he would have Blaine his side. From the moment Blaine had gotten injured until then, Kurt had always had the dreaded seed of knowledge in his stomach that this might be the end of it all. Now, with Blaine scarcely an inch away, waiting for his kiss, he knew it was not an ending of any sort.

"Whenever you're ready," Blaine teased, knocking Kurt out of his reverie. Chuckling, his amber eyes crinkled in amusement, Blaine tilted up his chin to close the last inch between them. Their lips met gently. Kurt felt his shoulders relax, the weight and tension sliding from them as if they had never been there before. Blaine's hand rose to run through the short hairs at the back of his neck, and Kurt smiled against his lips.

"When did you say Medice was coming back?" Kurt asked, breaking away from Blaine for a moment.

Blaine smiled and lifted his chin up to brush a small kiss off the side of Kurt's lips. "He should be gone at least half an hour, and Angelica is bound to spend most of that time running around frantically looking for him."

"Perfect," Kurt whispered, winding his arms around Blaine's neck while being careful not to jostle his injured side.

"Be careful with me. I'm an invalid."

In a moment of seriousness, Kurt leaned against Blaine's shoulder, his forehead resting in the hollow of the knight's collarbone. "You were so close, so many times, to…"

"Did you think about what it would be like?" Blaine asked, his hand running through Kurt's hair.

Kurt shook his head, his forehead still pressed against Blaine's bedclothes. "Not once. I couldn't. All I thought about was how I had to save you. If you hadn't…if you hadn't lived," Kurt took a deep breath. "You have though, so we don't have to talk about it."

"I just want you to know," Blaine said. He put a hand on Kurt's shoulders and pushed him back so that he could look into his eyes. "I would do the same for you. No matter how old we are, no matter _where_ we are, and no matter whom we're up against – I would always do the same. I'd ride to the ends of the Earth to save you. I'd…venture to hell and grab you from the devil himself."

Kurt knew it was inappropriate, but he couldn't hold back a giggle. "Stop while you're ahead," he told Blaine, brushing his curls, which had grown longer in his sickness, away from his forehead. Blaine, bright red with embarrassment, nodded. "You're awfully cute when you're all worked up about something though." Kurt smiled, as he always did when he was around Blaine. "Anyways, I believe you." He leaned down and kissed the knight, hands cupping his face and lips persuasive. "I believe you."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Inspiration credit for Jadvyga goes almost completely to the wonderful, talented, brilliant GRRM and Game of Thrones :3 See any of Varys in her? xD On a side note, I have NO idea how to pronounce her name, so if anyone here does know, I'd be forever obliged! I picked it for the fact that it's apparently a Lithuanian name, as well as for it's meaning, which is something along the lines of "refuge in war". :D_

_On another side note, it totally astounds me that people have done fanart for this story, even little notebook sketches! I want to see everythiiiiing; it would make me sooo very happy and I'd love you forever. And I tend to name characters after people I love forever and that is in no way a bribe ;) Anyways, best way to contact me about that is via tumblr. My url is chellyfishcolfer - I haven't posted anything in a few months (again, no internet) just because it's a pain in the arse to do it over my phone but I still do messages and likes etc, and I return to a place with wireless in just over a week :'D So yes, that'd make my heart go super weeeee!_

_Thanks for reading guys, and please leave a wee review before your departure! :3_


	30. Chapter 30 :: The King's Festival

_A/N: It has been SO long since I've updated, and I truly have nothing to say but that if writing was my full-time job, you guys would be getting a new chapter every other week or something :3 Alas, it is not, and in the very little time I do have to write, much of that is devoted to Pottersworld (that lovely, addictive time-suck...which if any of you happen to be on you should seriously tell me in comments :O). As long as an update might take however, they will most definitely not stop until the story is over :3_

_Merry Christmas, and happy holidays to you all!_

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><p><em>Summer, 631 A.D.; Lima, Algania<em>

Kurt, Sam, and Noah were all crowded inside Blaine's bedchamber. Kurt sat against the far wall with his legs perched up against a bureau. Noah sat directly by Blaine's bedside, and Sam leaned against a wall. Kurt's intention had been to go in and talk about nothing in particular, but he should have known that his plan would never play out to its intention. It had been two days since Kurt had first spoken to Brittany, and the quartet had wound up arguing over whether or not Kurt would go to the Festival that night.

"Of _course_ I'm going to go," the prince said, indignant that there should be any thought otherwise. "It's been settled. _I've_ settled it." He lowered his voice. "If not to understand more about how things are now – which I haven't had a chance to do since I've been back, in case it's escaped your notice – then to show people that I'm still _alive_, that I'm still a part of this court. Whether they remember it or not, I'm still the king's heir." He looked meaningfully at the other three. "I know we've been considering the people mainly in our reckoning, but truth be told, these nobles hold more immediate sway. You don't seriously expect me to not go now, do you?"

"Seeing as I was unconscious when this decision was made, I'm just trying to say that, with all respect, going tonight won't bear any fruit. Like you said, you haven't been back. You don't know what it's like anymore." Kurt tried to refrain from rolling his eyes at Blaine's words. He had finally told Noah and Blaine of his plan only that morning, and Sam had been quick to jump in and voice his misgivings, which the other two had seemed more inclined to listen to than Kurt's explanations.

"Are you going?" Kurt's blue eyes turned to Noah, who immediately started to shift.

"Yes," he admitted, sounding reluctant, "though through no choice of my own."

Kurt smiled benignly and turned back to Sam and Blaine. "Someone undoubtedly on my side will be there," Kurt said slowly. "I need to show people that I still have _power, _and that I do something besides sit around all day, a shadow of who I used to be. You know it to be true."

A moment of quiet met his words before Blaine spoke again. "We don't need another person hurt and confined to a bed," he murmured, his amber eyes turning up to Kurt. Sam and Noah averted their gazes and shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Or worse."

Understanding hit Kurt – Blaine was worried _for_ him. "When I went to the meeting in town the other day," he said, voicing something that had been bothering him since then. "I was cloaked, true, but more people's eyes went to Jadvyga as we walked than to me, and even when they did…" He took a deep breath. "It was like they didn't see me at all. I thought it was nice as I walked along, to be able to do things like that and not be recognized, but then I realized that none of them _recognize me_. This is all part of it, getting people on our side."

After a tense moment, Blaine nodded tightly. Sam let out an audible sigh of relief and leaned back up off the wall. "In that case," he said, beginning to grin, "we have a lot of work to do."

"_Thank_ you," Kurt said sarcastically, just as a laugh burst from Noah. Even Blaine revealed a small smile.

Sam flushed. "That's not what I meant," he defended himself gruffly, though after a moment he too started to grin.

"One last thing," Blaine said, halting their chuckles with his suddenly serious demeanor. Amber eyes fixed on Kurt. "Someone came to visit me yesterday."

"Is that so strange?" Noah asked, puzzled.

Maintaining eye contact, Blaine raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and Kurt suddenly understood. "_No._"

"Yes."

"I assumed that he had left after…" Kurt trailed off. He hadn't told Blaine about his confrontation in the hallway. He classified that as need-to-know information.

"I'm confused. Who are we talking about here?" Noah looked sharply between the two other nobles, and Sam stood noticeably silent, still against the wall.

"Blaine's father," Kurt answered distractedly.

Sam's brow furrowed in thought and Noah gaped. "_Ander_? Ander is here in court? But we saw him riding away from the court not long ago."

"It does make sense. I'm his son, and look at me." Noah looked properly abashed at Blaine's comment. "He said some things while he was here. There were two in particular which caught my interest." His eyes fixed on Kurt again. A feeling of dread slowly began to creep over the prince. "Apparently he had a violent run-in in a corridor with, and I quote, that 'delusional, devil-born royal's son'." Blaine's mouth pursed into a thin line. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking," Kurt admitted, running a hand through his hair.

"He also told me he'd be there." Blaine paused. "At the Festival."

Noah's eyes bugged. "_Ander_, at the _Festival_?"

"It does make sense," Kurt admitted reluctantly. "Ander and David do seem to get along swimmingly. This doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it?"

Kurt was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the tip of his shoe extended in front of him, his arms crossed against his chest. Eyes not leaving his foot, he spoke in an even tone. "Leave us, please."

Sam and Noah exchanged a look that Kurt caught out of the corner of his eye, but they left without a word. Kurt waited until the outer door had shut behind them to move. Silently, he walked toward Blaine's bedside and lay down beside him. His arms wrapped around the knight and Kurt buried his head into his shoulder. "I have to go," he said, his voice muffled against Blaine.

"I know," the knight admitted. "I don't like it – any of it." He paused. "Did you win?"

"Excuse me?"

"The fight. Did you win?"

Kurt was shocked into silence for a moment, and then he sighed. "In spite of whatever minor victories I've made in the past years, ultimately I've never managed not to lose. Fortune."

"Fortune," Blaine agreed, his gaze even. "Stay by Noah then, if you must go."

"He's more knowledgeable than any of us in the ways of David's inner circle." Kurt shook his head. "I used to think that David and I were friends. Was that ever true?"

"I couldn't say."

"Could I have done anything different? Is any of this _my_ fault?"

"You could never know, Kurt."

"Perhaps if I had intervened earlier, it wouldn't have gotten to this –" He quieted when a soft fingertip was placed over his lips, and with wide eyes, Kurt looked up at Blaine worriedly.

Blaine was smiling, but there was an emotion in his eyes that conveyed no sense of humor whatsoever. "You'll drive yourself crazy, in a time that is crazy enough without anyone's help. Stop this."

Kurt sighed wearily and rolled to his feet by Blaine's bedside. He ran his hands roughly over his tired face and wandered over to Blaine's looking glass. Bracing his hands on the bureau, he looked up at his reflection. He had seen himself in looking glasses since he had been back of course, but he had never really _looked_, and even since Blaine had been ill, he had seemed to age another ten years. He leaned closer to his reflection, and though the brightness in his blue eyes remained the same and the black circles that purpled underneath them had been there for nigh on three years, the lines around them were new. The prince ran his fingers over them, over the pallid sheen of his cheeks, over the sun spots that had begun to discolor his cheeks, likely born from his days in the sun when he was with the Raju.

Letting out a bated breath, his eyes refocused until he could see Blaine reflected behind him, sitting up in bed. Their eyes met in the looking glass, and for a prolonged moment, they were both silent. Where he saw the pallor of his own face, he saw that Blaine's cheeks were ruddy in a healthy way – full of life. He saw lines forming around his own eyes and forehead, but from this distance Blaine's face looked as smooth and innocent as the day they had met.

The man behind him crossed his arms over his chest. "Looking for white hairs?"

"When did we get to be the old ones?" Kurt asked with a rueful smile, thinking of Angelica and Jameson, and of the dead king.

Blaine scoffed. "Old," he repeated mockingly. "You'll live to be a wrinkly old man, Kurt. A king – maybe the best that we've seen in a long while."

"Shh," Kurt scolded, turning around to behold him in person. "Stop saying that. You'll curse it." The prince smiled grimly but in the back of his mind, he pondered his words of a curse. Surely there was no such thing as truly being cursed. At times though, it certainly felt like there was.

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><p>That night, Kurt got ready alone. Though he and Noah would be a united front at the Festival, they had both agreed that they would appear as such to themselves only. They would arrive separately, and seem to be nothing more than acquaintances. As far as David knew, that was all they were, and they wanted it to stay as such. As much as was possible, both of them wanted to stay in the king's good graces, and that meant giving him no doubt to suspect ulterior alliances.<p>

He forwent the usual royal red he wore to court functions in favor of a new outfit he had collaborated on with Daphne after talking to Brittany. When he entered the room, he wanted every eye to turn to him. He wanted the newcomers at court to ask who he was, and for the ones who knew him to catch their breath and remember him as a courtly force. With Daphne's help, he had learned the intricacies of the newest trends in the courts, and from there he had requested a fitted violet shirt, shorter than a tunic, and a silver vest that hugged his form.

As he walked to the Great Hall, he felt his old sense of confidence for the first time in longer than he cared to remember. He pushed in through the double door without hesitation, to behold a festival that was already well underway. It was as he had planned. They would all be there when he walked in; they would have no choice but to notice him.

Notice him they did. In spite of the degree of revelry, attention slowly started turning to him. Kurt's gaze travelled to the head of the room, past jesters and fist fights and whores and mistrals, to David. He sat at the head of a long, sturdy, wooden table shaped as a rectangle. A girl that Kurt had never seen before sat in his lap. She couldn't have been more than fourteen, and Kurt had to fight to maintain a straight face as he looked at them. He stood where he had entered until the attention of both the court and his cousin were on him.

Face falling, David shifted onto his feet, dropping the girl to the floor unceremoniously. "What…are _you_ doing here?" Kurt thought he saw a moment of unease pass over his cousin's face, but it was gone as soon as it came. He hadn't seen David since the day of the duel, and seeing him now, an entire host of bitter emotions cropped up that Kurt hadn't been expecting.

Now that he saw David here in front of him, the full weight of their plans his Kurt. When David was nothing more than a name in their conversations, it was easy to aspire to overthrow him. But here – here was the David who was his own flesh and blood.

No, Kurt told himself firmly. You couldn't help who was your blood, but you could choose who your family was, and David was no longer that. He had ravaged the lands around them, he had used Kurt as an excuse to pillage villages and rape women, and he had attempted to kill Blaine. No, David was not to be pitied, especially now, when he sat at the head of the room, orchestrating this barbaric practice.

In response, Kurt smiled. It was an appropriate smile for the court: placid and non-aggressive, yet confident. "Surely there is a place at the table for your heir during the Festival?"

A corner of the king's mouth twisted up into a smile, as if he was marinating with a secret that Kurt didn't know. The prince was under no delusions that he would be told, not until David thought he could best use the information in his favor. "How _novel_," he said gleefully, sitting back down and waving at the girl, who draped herself across him once more. "My dear cousin desires to play at princes again." A hollow laugh rang throughout the court. "Well? What do you say?" His voice roared through the hall. "Shall we give him a _royal_ treatment?"

Just like that, the noise returned to its former volume, though now they were all scuttling to seats and beginning to rip at legs of mutton. As Kurt walked toward a seat by David's side that he presumed had been cleared for him, he continued to force himself to not look disgusted at the level to which King Paul's Great Hall had sunk to. The floor was sticky with wine and ale. On tables at the room's sides, men groped underneath whores' shirts. In a far corner, one man was even in the middle of the process of taking a woman. Kurt hoped dearly that he wasn't a knight, sullying the name of the title he held. Whether he was or was not, the court he had known was nothing like this new construction.

He sat carefully at the chair. "I couldn't bear to miss out on these festivities, once I heard," he said, succeeding in his attempts to sound genuine.

"I dare say that you didn't receive an invitation yourself. Which of these snakes might have told you?" The sickening tone came from Ander, seated at David's right hand side.

"Hmm." With a wave of David's hand, a woman in a low-cut crimson dress sauntered toward them. With growing nausea, Kurt pushed back his chair enough for her to approach him. "For you," his cousin said, his gaze transformed into one of assessment. Ander leaned back in his chair and smirked.

"Highness," the woman said. Her voice was low and sensual, and she leaned down when she approached him so that he could see through the top of her shirt to her bosom underneath.

Forcing his every action, Kurt surveyed her and then smiled appreciatively. "Truly, I have been away too long," he said. When she climbed onto his lap and started moving her hands across his chest, he reached past her to grab a goblet of wine. If this was how the night was to go, he needed something to steady his nerves. Unlike Ander, whose gaze remained disbelieving, David seemed to take the action favorably. He laughed, and Kurt thought that he saw genuine enjoyment written there in his expression.

"Praise our God, you've rid yourself of that paralyzing weight attached to your side," David said mockingly, following Kurt's suit and grabbing a goblet of his own. Kurt bristled. He could only mean Blaine. "This is what we should be like cousin, like how we used to be at court. You have returned to us by the mercy of God, and you seem to have finally come to your senses. None too soon, for I was beginning to think you had lost interest in the court entirely."

"On the contrary," Kurt said. "My interest never faded, but sadly my physical heath wasn't able to keep up." He knew that in spite of his pleasant words, David was still watching his every move for one sign of insincerity. As he talked, he took a cue from the actions of both David and other men scattered around the Hall. He moved his hands over the whore's small waist to cup at her breasts. It felt so incredibly, sickeningly _wrong_, and yet he smiled as she purred and arched against him and licked at the side of his face, and Kurt could tell that David was pleased.

"We shall make up for it now," the king declared, slamming his goblet down. Wine sloshed across the table and ran down onto both of their breeches, but Kurt paid it no mind. "Noah!" As the king called the name of his friend and ally, Kurt looked around sharply. He had forgotten to look for the knight upon his entry. Noah materialized at David's side, giving Kurt only an indifferent nod that addressed protocol. "Bring her."

"It's early in the night yet –" Ander started.

"_Bring her_."

"Right away." With those words, Noah was gone once more, through the doors of the Great Hall.

"You'll enjoy this, cousin," David declared, pushing the girl away from him once more. Kurt slipped away from the one who had been assigned to him more delicately, and he stuck like a burr to David's side as the king grabbed a long spear that was mounted on the wall. Ander remained near the head of the table.

Kurt was about to ask what precisely it was that he would enjoy so much when a ripping roar echoed from outside. A moment later, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and Noah, with a face of stone, led in a mighty bear by a chain around its neck. The beast had to have been three times his size, and it struggled against its confine.

With a sinking feeling Kurt realized what would happen to the poor animal. When David tried to push a second spear into his own hands, Kurt refused outright. At his cousin's look of disapproval, he scrambled to cover for himself. "I beg of you," he said, smiling savagely. "Let me watch for tonight. I could use with a laugh."

After a beat of silence, David chuckled appreciatively. He dropped the second spear and moved toward the bear. Kurt, fighting rapidly rising nausea, took several steps away from the bear-baiting to fall into the nearest chair. His cousin was the first one to draw blood from the creature. His spear dug into its shoulder, and its mouth opened in a fierce growl that revealed each one of its sharp teeth. After first blood followed taunts with fire and thrown objects. All the while, the fools paraded around making a mockery of the blood sport. Kurt didn't keep track of how long it was until the poor creature, bleeding from a dozen stab wounds, simply laid down and quite fighting its captors and tormentors.

"The killing blow," David shouted, running up to him. His eyes were alight with bloodlust as he looked at Kurt.

"I couldn't possibly," Kurt said, shaking his head. "You've gone this far. It's only right that you continue."

"Come cousin, join in the sport!"

His hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly, for Kurt knew that if they didn't, they would be shaking. He looked over David's shoulder to the poor, dying, bleeding bear. Noah still held its chain collar. So minutely that one would not have noticed the action had they not been looking for it, Noah nodded.

Hoping that his nerve wouldn't fail him and that he could control his roiling stomach until after the Festival, Kurt took the blood-crusted spear from his cousin. "It would be my pleasure, if you'll allow me."

David nodded imperiously and stepped back. Kurt, spear in hand, approached the bear. It was sprawled out on the ground, breath coming shallow. As Kurt neared, its black, moist eyes watched his progress. The pain in them was so human that Kurt almost fell to the ground on the spot, but he held his stance. Blue eyes travelled to its neck. He had been trained in the arts of battle, too. He knew just where to strike that would still the animal's pain and end its life.

It was there that he made his blow, slicing into the bear's exposed throat and stealing its last breath. A spray of warm blood gushed from its neck. The red shower fell not only on him and Noah, who were the two closest, but the tormentors arrayed several steps away as well. Hot blood pooled under the animal, and a roaring cheer erupted from the human inhabitants of the room.

One of the loudest of all was that coming from David, who walked up to Kurt and Noah and clapped them both on the back. "A triumphant return!" He grabbed Kurt's wrist and raised it above his head, turning them toward the spectators. Only Ander's expression remained sour. "Prince Kurt!" The cheer went up through the raucous crowd. Kurt smiled widely, nodding his acknowledgement of their attention. The hot drops on his face were turning cold and dripping onto his lips and eyelids. When he reached up to wipe at them, his hands came away bloody.

* * *

><p><span>Fun (not-so-fun) Fact<span>: Bear-baiting, as I'm sure you know, is very much real. I couldn't find the time when it started, but it was brought into popular culture by gypsy's, who made them dance for entertainment. It was ultimately popularized in British courts, where it turned into something like what you see here. They would declaw the poor animals, and sometimes rip their teeth out as well, though not in the scene I depicted here.


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